


The Walls of Dortmund

by mariothellama



Category: Football RPF
Genre: 17th Century, 17th-century Dortmund, 17thC Christmas, Alternate Universe - Historical, Anal Sex, Angst, Developing Relationship(s), Explicit Sexual Content, Falling In Love, First Kiss, First Love, First Time, Hand Jobs, Heartbreak, Historical Accuracy, M/M, New Year, Oral Sex, Rimming, Soul-Searching, Thirty Years War, a 17thC wedding, a bit of adventure, coming out to your parents 17thC style, discussion of past non-consensual/coerced oral sex in Chapter Twelve, happy ending!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-13
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-08-22 04:08:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 41,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8272225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mariothellama/pseuds/mariothellama
Summary: Marco and Mario had grown up together and thought the future would be theirs, even after the outbreak of war. Marco is heartbroken when Mario leaves Dortmund to fight for the Emperor and they lose touch. Marco focuses on his duty to his city until Erik, a young soldier, arrrives at their gates. But what if Erik knows how to find Mario? And will the three of them be able to build a future together despite all the obstacles in their way?





	1. A heartbreaking departure and an intriguing arrival

**Author's Note:**

> This is very different from the other stories I write and I will go on writing non-AU oneshots. But this is the WIP I really wanted to write. When I started it I actually thought it was the only thing I would ever write. It will be updated once a week as most of it is already written.
> 
> This story is not about war and violence, but about the lives of people caught up in it. The historical and physical setting is completely accurate, everything existed or happened and what I have had to create for my narrative is as plausible as possible. There is some historical background in the first chapter to make the story make sense, but I have kept this as brief as possible. Of all the things I thought I would ever write in my life, Marco Reus explaining the Thirty Years War in one sentence was not on the list! The chronology of Mario's career is also accurate if you take 1631 as being 2016!
> 
> I have put historical notes at the end of each chapter for anyone who is interested, but you don't need to read these. For, despite the historical setting, this is at heart a love story.

It was early evening on the 31st of May 1631. The air was warm and fragrant, hinting at early summer. But this was barely noticed by the tall man standing on the city walls, his arms folded across his chest and his gaze straining southwards in the direction of the Ruhr. Nor did he see the beauty of the countryside laid out before him. His keen eyes were looking for signs of movement. For soldiers. Or fire. Fire was what he most dreaded seeing, the telltale indicator of towns and villages under attack. Essen, which lay not far away, had been stormed by Dutch troops just two years before.

Marco Reus had just turned 27, although sometimes he felt decades older. You could still see the signs of the carefree young boy he had once been in his cheeky crooked grin or his wonderful shy smile that could light up a whole room. But there were lines round his lambent amber eyes and the stress, worry and responsibility of the past few years were starting to show. He was thin, perhaps thinner than he had once been, but his lean frame was strongly muscled, his powerful legs keeping him firmly planted in place on the stone wall despite the evening breeze. His hair was long enough on top to ruffle faintly in the wind and its red gold hue shone like burnished metal in the evening sun.

Marco shifted awkwardly and hissed slightly with the pain. He had been lucky, his injuries had healed well but his left leg still chose to sometimes remind him of what he had been through if he ever dared to forget it. He turned his head to look behind him for a moment, to look at the familiar Dortmund skyline dominated by the church towers and spires of the city. He looked back down the Wißstraße, which led to the Market Square, the heart of the city, ringed by the houses of the wealthy merchants and guilds. His father was there now, with the other members of the city council, meeting in the City Hall to determine how best to protect their city.

Dortmund was the city where he had been born, the city he loved and lived for and would give everything for. The city where his family lived, including his beloved niece and nephew. He sighed and sadly wondered what the future would hold for them, what hope was there for them in this crazy world they now lived in, in this world turned upside down.

Dortmund was also the city where he was himself meant to marry and have children of his own so that his illustrious family name would live on, although he pushed that thought far away in the back of his mind. That was perhaps the only good thing about this terrible conflict. This was no time for a man to marry and bring yet more innocent children into the world to suffer. And with his duties and responsibilities, he couldn’t afford to be distracted. Even if he was just now, thinking about him.

Although Marco was buried deep in thought, his highly-trained senses heard the man quietly walking along the wall to stand by his side. They were standing on the Wißstraßentor, the highest point of the mighty wall that encircled and safeguarded the city. Once a simple city gate, it was now a massive defensive structure, a five pointed bastion, guarding the road south to Cologne. That had been Dortmund’s main economic artery, their access to the Hanseatic trade, before the war put an end to that.

For long minutes they stood side by side, deep in silent contemplation. Then Marco asked his companion, ‘You’re thinking about Lars, your twin, somewhere out there, wondering if he is alright, aren’t you?’

‘Yes,’ sighed Sven, ‘I can’t help worrying about him, although I feel I would know if anything had happened to him.’

Then Sven, one of the few people who knew both of them well enough to risk the question, asked, ‘You’re thinking about him, aren’t you?’

***

Marco saw again in his mind’s eye that terrible night just over three years ago, the night which had broken his heart so much more than it should have. Even though Mario Götze was three years younger than him, they had been friends for years, soulmates even, since the very first time they had met. His Sunny. He called him Sunny because that was how Mario appeared to the world: happy and positive. And he was. Mario was the brightest, most hopeful person Marco had ever met. But Marco also knew the other side of him. The fear that he would not live up to expectations. The frustration that people who had known him his whole lifetime would not understand that he was growing up. How deeply criticism hurt him even when he tried to laugh it off.

And while Mario loved Dortmund and the life that it had given him and his family since they had moved here, Marco knew that sometimes he dreamed of the world beyond its walls, walls which were safe and protecting but also enclosing and limiting.

They had done everything together, as boys turning into young men, and they had thought that the world would be theirs. Even after the start of this terrible war. No one really knew what this war was about anymore. This conflict, which began as a futile attempt by the Bohemians to install the Elector Palatine in the place of the Habsburg Emperor, had turned into a war quite literally for the soul of the Holy Roman Empire and a power game for kings from across Europe that had brought mercenaries flooding in to fight on all sides.

That was the only thing Marco knew to be true about this pointless conflict, that his home was the battleground. As a boy Marco had heard the terrible stories of the destruction in the Palatinate in the early years of the war. Dortmund had been lucky so far, able to negotiate or buy off all threats. But the war was getting close to their gates, the money was running out and nobody knew how long their luck would hold out. His beloved city was in a particularly difficult position as it was a target for every side. It was an free imperial city, with the Catholic Emperor as its lord, the only such one in Westphalia. But it was also a Protestant city. That was why the city had tried so desperately to stay neutral. The city council had even decreed that no young men from Dortmund should enlist on either side in this conflict.

But now Mario was leaving. He was nearly twenty-one. And he had decided that he couldn’t stay in Dortmund any longer. He wanted to go to Bavaria, to fight with them for the Emperor.

Marco tried to argue with him. ‘But Mario, how can you leave Dortmund? How can you leave the city where you grew up? The people who love you and need you? We need you to stay here and fight with us!’

What remained unspoken was what Marco was screaming inside his heart but could not utter out loud: ‘How can you leave me?’

And then the memory that was even more painful, so utterly heartbreakingly beautifully painful. The memory he could think about only very rarely or the sheer pain of it would stop him living, stop him breathing. Mario had raised his tear-stained face, his beautiful big brown eyes liquid with misery and Marco did the only thing he could. He took his Sunny in his arms.

The younger man was slightly smaller than him and fitted perfectly into his embrace, as if they had been made for each other. Mario felt soft and warm and hard with muscle against him. Marco drank in the scent of his hair and his skin. And then they kissed. A kiss that would need to last an eternity. Gentle and tender at first, exploring with lips and tongues, then open mouthed and angry, their tongues battling for dominance, teeth clashing and almost violent with the fury of their emotions. And then Mario was gone.

***

Sven’s voice broke into Marco’s thoughts. He shouldn’t think about Mario. It hurt too much and he needed to look forward, to stay strong for the people who depended upon him.

‘Marco! I see people. A small group on the road. I think they are mostly civilians, women and children. But there are a couple of men with them.’

***

The small group of people drew near the gate. Marco could see them clearly now. Five women and several children. There were two men with them. One looked like a farmer. Marco immediately recognised that he was no threat at all. The other man was different. Something about him drew Marco’s attention. He was young, clearly tired and travel stained, but his bearing was proud and upright. He was carrying a little boy, whose arms were wrapped tightly around the man. The boy was about the same age as Marco’s nephew and the man had obviously carried him for some distance, despite the fact that the child was heavy enough to be a considerable burden.

‘Open the small gate in the wall. I’m going out to speak with them,’ Marco ordered.

As Marco walked out of the narrow opening, only large enough to let one individual at a time pass through, the group of dusty travellers halted. The fascinating young man set the small boy down and walked towards Marco, his arms held out to indicate that he was not holding a weapon.

Marco could see the man more clearly now. He was young, about the same age as Mario would be now, with brown hair that Marco had a sudden longing to run his fingers through. Despite the dirt, Marco could see how handsome he was, with high cheekbones and a strongly shaped jaw. And the most wonderful eyes that Marco had ever seen.

Then the young man spoke, his voice strong and clear. ‘My name is Erik Durm. I am a soldier currently in the service of the king of Sweden. Do with me what you will. But I found these poor people alone and defenceless on the road. Their small farmstead had been burnt to the ground by deserters looking for food and they were destitute and starving. I brought them here, to the nearest safe city to ask for sanctuary.’

Marco thought long and hard about his answer. Their resources were limited. They couldn’t help everyone. And the safety of the city was paramount. But nor could they afford to lose their humanity. Then something happened which made up his mind. The small boy ran forward to cling onto the man he now knew was called Erik and was not the boy’s relative, obviously seeking comfort. Erik picked the boy up, balanced him on his hip and then, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, kissed the small boy on the cheek.

Marco knew what he had to say. ‘I am Marco Reus. My father is a member of the city council. We will give the villagers sanctuary. You may also enter the city to rest and recuperate, but only if you agree to stay with me, where I can keep a close watch on you.’

Marco knew that he made this a condition primarily for security reasons, but he also wanted a chance to get to know the young man better.

Erik smiled, a beautiful warm smile which lit up his whole face. That was the moment at which Marco knew he could lose his heart to this Erik if he wasn’t careful.

‘I would be very grateful indeed if you could keep a very close eye on me, Marco.’

***

Marco carried a large pail of fresh hot water up to his bedroom. As he opened the door, Erik was standing naked in the tin bath, his back to the door, washing the sweat, dust and dirt accumulated over long days on the road from his tired body. Marco watched, almost hypnotised. His eyes followed the rivulets of water running down Erik’s back, revealing the pale, smooth skin under the layers of dirt. His gaze traced patterns over Erik’s broad shoulders and the strong muscles of his back, which flexed as Erik lifted his arms. Erik had such a strong upper body, but a narrow slim waist. The curve of his back begged to be caressed and worshipped.

Erik poured more water over his shoulders and Marco’s eyes greedily followed the drops of water flowing down Erik’s spine and over his perfectly formed buttocks. At that thought, Marco flushed red with embarrassment and coughed nervously, drawing Erik’s attention to his presence. Erik turned, thankfully for Marco’s remaining sanity revealing just his upper body, and smiled. A smile full of warmth and sadness, mystery and openness. And something that Marco couldn’t quite read yet.

‘I brought you some more hot water,’ Marco said, kicking himself mentally at the stupidity of such an obvious statement. And he realised that he would have to walk over to where Erik was standing naked to place the pail of hot water on the floor next to him.

Erik smiled again. ’Thank you.’

‘There are some underclothes on the bed for you to wear as night things. I’ll bring some food up so we can eat and talk in privacy.’ Marco hurriedly backed out of the room before he could embarrass himself any further.

By the time Marco came back, carrying a pitcher of small beer and a tray of bread, cheese and dried fruits, Erik was dressed and sitting on the bed. The light underclothes were loose and baggy, the undershirt long, but Marco could still picture the delights which lay beneath.

‘Stop it!’ Marco admonished himself inside his head. ‘This is not right. This young man has probably suffered terrible hardships and he is your guest.’ And another, even more treacherous voice hissed, ‘And he is not Mario.’

They ate in companionable silence for a while, until Marco cleared his throat.

‘I know you might not want to talk about it, but …'

Erik smiled in understanding. ‘It’s alright. I know you have to ask. You and your family are among those responsible for the safety of your city. There is no point in being protected by strong walls, if you let danger in through the front door.’

Marco sighed, relieved. ‘You are right. But sometimes you also have to trust people. We cannot let everything that has happened mean that we cannot trust anymore.’

‘Like you trusted me?’ asked Erik. ‘Why?’

‘It was the way you were carrying that little boy. He trusted you. It shone out of him. He reminds me of my nephew, Nico.’

What Marco didn’t add is that there was something about Erik, something which had fascinated and scared him from the moment he saw him.

‘And anyway,’ Marco continued, ‘I’ve seen you naked now. I know you are not carrying any weapons.’

Erik grinned, but Marco once more kicked himself inwardly at his stupidity and at the obvious double meaning of what he had said. And he presumed that Erik would indeed have a very impressive weapon secreted somewhere about his person.

Erik’s expression became more serious. ‘My story is the same as that of so many people over these last ten years. I was born and brought up in the small village of Pirmasens, where I lived with my parents and my beloved sister Lisa.’ His face softened at the mention of his sister.

Marco smiled too. ‘I have two sisters myself, both live here in Dortmund.’

‘I was only eleven when this terrible conflict began,' Erik went on. 'Although my village didn’t belong to the territories of the Elector Palatine, we knew that our location would make us vulnerable. And the troops came when I was fifteen, Spanish troops in the service of the Emperor, and burnt most of our village to the ground, even our church.’

Marco could barely bring himself to ask, but he had to. ‘Your parents? Your sister?’

Erik smiled again, the warm, beautiful smile that Marco was beginning to cherish so much. ‘Yes. We were lucky. We all survived. My family are still there, rebuilding our village.’

Rebuilding even in time of war, that took courage and optimism, thought Marco. ‘But you didn’t stay?’

‘No. I couldn’t. I’ve been in military service since then. First with the Dutch. Then in Danish service. Then the Swedish. Fighting with mercenaries from all over Europe.

I had been in the Netherlands and was on my way back with fresh troops from Scotland to fight under Gustavus Adolphus, king of Sweden. We followed the Rhine southwards from near Kleve, before breaking off to head north again. I found those poor people suffering on the road outside the tiny village of Gelsenkirchen. I sent the Scots on their way with directions and brought the villagers here.’

Marco nodded. ‘You are welcome to stay here for as long as you want. You will have to share my room and my bed though. I hope that will not be too great a hardship.’

Erik chuckled. ‘I grew up on a village farm. I’ve spent the rest of my life in the army. I’ve never slept on my own. And I’m sure that I’ll be very comfortable here. With you.’

Marco swallowed hard. Was he imagining the fact that Erik seemed to want to stay close to him too? Or was he just hearing what he wanted to hear?

***

They settled into bed, Erik lying on his back and falling asleep almost immediately, obviously exhausted from his long journey. Marco lay awake for some time, before drifting off, dreaming of a beautiful smile and eyes he could lose his soul in. Although who they belonged to wasn’t entirely clear.

Marco woke in the early hours of the morning and raised himself up on his elbow to look at Erik. Asleep, his expression unguarded, Erik looked an innocent young man again. His hair was soft and luxuriant. Once again Marco had the strongest urge to pet it, as he would the fur of an exuberant puppy. And Erik had the most enticing lips Marco had ever seen on a man, pink, full and plush. Marco wondered what it would feel like to kiss those lips, to feel them against him, to swipe his tongue across Erik’s lips, to ask Erik to open for him and let Marco drink in what lay beyond.

Erik’s breathing changed, becoming harsher and more erratic. Erik’s legs jerked restlessly under the covers, his chest rose and fell painfully. Marco heard him mutter incomprehensibly. For a moment Marco feared that he had disturbed Erik, until he realised that the younger man was having a nightmare.

Without thinking, Marco reached out with his other arm, encircling Erik’s torso protectively. ‘Shhh. It’s alright. You are safe.’ Marco reassured his sleeping companion.

Without seeming to wake up, Erik rolled over on his side, curling himself against Marco, with his arms round Marco’s neck. Marco felt Erik nose against his cheek, felt Erik’s nose nestling itself inside his ear. Why on earth did that feel so nice, so comfortable? And then Marco too fell into a sound sleep.

They woke up with their arms still wound round one another’s bodies. The night’s events remained an unspoken intimacy, a dream in the darkness chased away by the scrutiny of daylight.


	2. Settling into a new life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik settles into his new life in Dortmund and with Marco.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally just the introduction to chapter two, but since some of you were interested in the historical setting I have expanded it into a chapter in its own right and included some of the things that otherwise would only ever have been in my head.
> 
> This chapter covers Erik's first three or four weeks in Dortmund. It tries to explain why this is such a tense time for the city and give a picture of Erik's new life. It also deals with the period in which Erik and Marco are getting to know each other and the detailed description of Marco's bedroom - and his bed in particular - might be of interest as quite a few of the chapters that follow take place there. I didn't really intend to write such a detailed explanation of their clothing, but I just got carried away dressing them up in my mind! I think that Erik in particular would look amazing like this and it might be an improvement on some of his other ... um ... fashion choices. Sorry Erik!
> 
> There are notes at the end for anyone who is interested/wants to check that I haven't just made this up, but you don't need to read them to follow the story.

The weeks rolled on and Erik stayed in the city, stayed with Marco. They never really talked about it. It just happened. As Erik put it, he hadn’t just gone missing. The troops he had been escorting would have reported that he had gone to Dortmund. And, as much as there were sides any more in this incomprehensible conflict, a clever lawyer could argue that Erik, the king of Sweden and the city of Dortmund were now on the same side. Dortmund was an Imperial city, but also a Protestant city and the city council had been reluctant to carry out the re-Catholicisation demanded by the Emperor in 1629. The pressure to conform had only been eased by the entry of Sweden into the conflict a year later and the arrival of Swedish troops on German soil.

But that also meant that the dark threat of war was circling ever closer, enclosing the city in its vice-like grip. The tension was almost palpable for Erik as he walked through the streets. This was new for him. He had always been the one outside the walls, the attacker the city feared. Now he was inside, inside a city whose fabric and inhabitants he was starting to care about deeply.

Erik knew from experience that Dortmund’s strength was a poisoned chalice. The city was rich, or rather it had been rich, and that attracted unwelcome attention. There was a high chance that one day the city council might no longer be able to negotiate or buy off hostile forces. Then they would be left with a stark choice: either let the enemy in through the gates or risk being besieged. Siege carried a terrible risk. Their walls were strong, strong enough to hold off besiegers for months, either until supplies ran out, reinforcements arrived or the attackers simply gave up. But if the walls fell or the city had to surrender due to imminent starvation, a terrible price could be exacted.

The news of the fall of the Magdeburg in May after a long six-month siege had struck terror into the hearts of all, even though the city lay far to the east of them. Magdeburg had been plundered and burnt to the ground, resulting in the death of around two thirds of its 30,000 inhabitants. For the first time Marco was glad that Mario had been seriously wounded last year, otherwise he might have been a witness to this atrocity as one of the Imperial soldiers who entered the city.

That was Dortmund’s possible fate. And one of the many reasons why Erik’s presence was so welcome. As a long-serving soldier, Erik possessed a wealth of valuable experience and knowledge, which he gladly shared with Marco and his comrades. Erik and Marco spent their days together, inspecting the city’s defences, going over the plans to protect the city and its inhabitants in an emergency, making sure that everything was ready and everybody knew what their duty was. Another thing that they never talked about was that Erik now knew too much about Dortmund’s defences, that it might be too big a risk to let him leave. Not that Marco ever wanted him to leave.

Erik was becoming a valued and trusted member of the community. He was even invited to visit the imposing five-hundred year old City Hall on the south side of the Market Square, to come to the council chamber where Marco’s father and the other city councillors were gathered. The councillors, men with long years of commercial and political experience, were impressed by the young soldier who stood before them, full of confidence but without a shred of arrogance, and answered their extensive questions intelligently and thoughtfully.

***

But life was not all work, duty and thoughts of war. Life went on, dogs and children played in the streets, there was baking and brewing to be done. Marco took Erik to one of the city’s long-standing institutions, the _Krone am Markt,_ the tavern on the south side of the Market Square that had stood in front of the Kronen Brewery for over two hundred years. However Marco and his friends preferred to be more discrete, congregating in _zum goldenen Löwen_ in the Ostenhellweg, behind the Marienkirche. The landlord’s son was an old friend of Marco’s, they went way back. He was often in Dortmund even though business frequently took him to the far south, to the court of the Duke of Württemburg. But when Großkreutz was in town, there was always a party going on.

Erik began to feel at home with Marco and his friends. Erik had missed out on so much of his youth and he could finally enjoy himself in the company of Marco’s friends, who knew how to have a good time but were slightly more refined than the company he had kept in the army. Erik knew that these young men were not avoiding the war. They knew that one day it would come to them and they would be ready. But they were making the most of life while they could.

Erik come to know Sven, who had been with Marco when Erik first arrived at the gates of the city, much better. And he made a friend. Perhaps the first true friend he had made in his entire life so far, Marco not really counting. Matthias was twenty-two, taller than Erik (which he wasn’t used to), quiet and serious, always thoughtful but with an infectious smile and a warm heart. His sweetheart was the prettiest girl in Dortmund and his face lit up when he talked about her. Erik thought that Matthias was exactly the kind of man you wanted to have at your back. He would never start a fight, indeed he would do his best to defuse one before it started. But if someone else caused trouble, well then he would deal with it and usually come out on top. Yes, if Erik had to fight, he would happily do so with Matthias by his side.

***

It was Matthias and Marco who had provided much of Erik’s new wardrobe. He was somewhere between them in size and stature and their clothes had fitted with only a few alterations. Erik was glad to see that they dressed simply, keeping their hair short for practical reasons. Marco was more or less clean shaven, save for the slight stubbly growth on his chin and neck.

Erik dressed like Marco, in simple undershirts and breeches and low heeled boots, with boot hose to protect their fine stockings when they were working or riding. Leather jerkins and coats just like he had worn in the army for serious work or on horseback. And plain doublets reaching to the waist when dressed to go out in public. Marco preferred to wear his doublets narrower and closer fitting than was currently the fashion and predominantly in black. The black contrasted beautifully with his pale skin and red gold hair and sometimes Erik felt a slight ache in his heart, an ache of unfulfilled longing, when he caught a sudden glimpse of Marco like this.

Erik knew that Marco had much finer clothing in his wardrobe, although he rarely wore it. On the day that Erik was to go to the city hall to speak to the council, Marco had laid out a splendid outfit for him to put on. He wore a much more elaborate shirt, with fine cuffs and a lace-trimmed pointed collar that draped over the neck of the sumptuous doublet, not black this time but a deep rich red, bigger and much more imposing than his every day attire, with slashes in the sleeves and over his shoulder blades to reveal glimpses of the shirt beneath.

The black breeches were plain, but made of expensive material and fitted him perfectly; the boots of soft and supple dark brown leather. Marco had helped him dress and then stood back, regarding Erik with a pleased and admiring smile on his face before telling him that the clothing was a gift, was his to keep. Well, as Marco pointed out, a red doublet would clash terribly with his hair, whereas Erik’s gleamed like the rich deep hue of the wood of their bedroom furniture in contrast with the beautiful fabric.

And yes, that was the place where Erik was truly beginning to feel at home, the townhouse belonging to Marco’s family that stood on the Westenhellweg, the city’s main commercial thoroughfare, close to the Petrikirche. The house was spread over three storeys, with a cellar and attic rooms under the roof and a yard and garden space to the rear. The kitchen and business premises stood on the ground floor. The hall where the family spent much of their time was on the first floor, with the family’s bedchambers above it.

Erik shared Marco’s bedchamber, the most luxurious space Erik had ever slept in. The room had its own large stone fireplace. The walls were panelled with wood that kept the spacious room snug and cosy, even though the window with their wooden shutters let in plenty of daylight. And the ceiling was decorated with swirling patterns of flowers, fruits and vines. Erik could look at them for hours, always seeing new things in the intricate design.

The room was even more beautiful illuminated by flickering candlelight. Erik loved to spend evenings here alone with Marco, talking or even just being together in silence. The oak furnishings were tasteful and understated, including a table flanked by two solid, comfortable carved chairs where Marco could work and the two of them sometimes ate in privacy.

And the bed. Marco’s bed was simply magnificent, as was befitting the only son and heir of one of the richest and most powerful men in Dortmund. This was the bed that Marco was supposed to take with him as his marriage bed when he set up his own household one day. A blank space had even been left for the happy couple to carve their intertwined initials into the head of the bed.

It was a solid oak tester bed, with an elaborately carved headboard, covered by a wooden canopy, with a footboard and two pillars at the end. The bed was hung with black and gold curtains, which Erik just knew would create the most wonderful, familiar, warm environment come winter. He tried not to think about that too much, about how much he longed to share that intimate space with Marco during the long, cold winter months.

For, wonderful as this all was, none of that was what made life in this prosperous and comfortable household precious to Erik. That was being with Marco day and night. Every night Erik and Marco slept curled up together in the centre of Marco’s large, comfortable bed, in what was intended to be Marco’s future marital bed. And that was a third thing that they never talked about in the hours of daylight.

***

Late May’s promise of early summer had bloomed into the relative warmth of June. As they got ready for bed one evening, Erik turned to face Marco.

‘Marco. You know that I feel comfortable sleeping here with you. Don’t you?’

Marco felt suddenly uneasy. Yes, it was weird. But he did like sleeping next to Erik. And he was suddenly afraid that Erik wanted to try and find new lodgings. So he simply nodded his agreement.

‘W-e-e-e-ll,’ drawled Erik, ‘it’s just that the temperature is rising now and do we really need to sleep wearing so much clothing?’

Marco gulped. Erik was of course right. It was far too warm to be sleeping in an undershirt. And it was playing havoc with his laundry. But the thought of sleeping next to a topless Erik excited him just a little bit too much to be comfortable. So he simply shook his head.

‘Good!’ exclaimed Erik cheerfully, before jumping into bed naked from the waist up.

Marco followed him a bit more cautiously, trying not to think how bewitching the sight of Erik’s rosy pink nipples had been. Erik turned to snuggle up against him, just like he had every other night since the first one they had spent together. It was just that this time their naked torsos were pressed together, Erik’s pert nipples pressing against the skin of Marco’s back. Erik wrapped his arm around Marco. He felt Erik’s hand briefly brush across the skin of his chest, before stilling over Marco’s heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Rathaus would be the oldest stone-built city hall in the German-speaking lands if it had survived. Although it would have been restorable after WW2, it was demolished and huge Karstadt Sports stands on the site today.
> 
> The Dortmund City Council was made up of twelve members elected for life by the time this story takes place. It had six senior members, one of whom is our Marco’s father, two of whom acted jointly as Bürgermeister.
> 
> The Stammhaus of the Kronen Brauerei, 'Krone am Markt', passed into the hands of the Wenker family in the eighteenth century and a public house/restaurant bearing that name still stands on the site, the signage commemorating its history. Marco’s preferred 'zum goldenen Löwen' can be traced back to at least 1632 (so I am allowing myself it!) and is what later became known as the Gildenhaus, a nineteenth-century reconstruction of a historic building and was also lost to WW2 damage.
> 
> There are several maps and drawings of early modern Dortmund. Several show a very distinctive Dortmund skyline dominated by church towers and spires, which is a complete contrast to the one we are so familiar with today. Most of the historic buildings remained standing until at least the middle of the nineteenth century, many until World War Two, so we know exactly what the city looked like.
> 
> I've checked and there are reasonable quality images of some of the maps/drawings in the German language Wikipedia article for Dortmund, including the well known 1610 map. You can find them under the heading 'Stadtgeschichte', if you click on Hauptartikel: Geschichte der Stadt Dortmund.
> 
> Part of the Wißstraße that Marco walks down in Chapter One can still be seen on the map today, north of the Stadtgarten, running on the same line as it would have in 1631. The Market Square is still there although the site of the City Hall is marked only by a plaque.
> 
> Dortmund was surrounded by over 3 km of walled fortifications. The gate Marco is standing on is clearly visible on the old maps and was the last to be demolished in the 1850s. All of the wall was taken down by the second half of the nineteenth century, but the line of the wall is survives on the map today, marked by the ringroad which encircles the inner city. The names of two of the city gates live on as underground stations and a watchtower, the Adlerturm, has been reconstructed.
> 
> Marco’s family townhouse is 83 Westenhellweg, today a Deutsche Telekom shop. This is a narrow building in contrast to much of what lines a busy modern shopping street and could well sit on the original building plot, especially compared with the 1610 plan of the city. The exterior of the house is based on descriptions of a similar building in Düsseldorf; the interior – in particular Marco’s bedroom – on the house of a wealthy merchant furnished as it would have been in 1617 from elsewhere in north-west Europe.
> 
> Wealthy urban dwellers at this time dressed in the same style as the nobility, but with much less rich and ornate fabrics and decoration. There is a unique collection of clothing belonging to rich townspeople from seventeenth-century Cologne in the Hessisches Landesmuseum in Darmstadt, which provided the model for Erik’s finery. The collection also suggests that while the women followed Dutch fashion, men’s clothing was very similar to what we find in England at the time. So I have made a similar assumption for Dortmund, given the similarities in economic profile and trading patterns.


	3. Of first kisses ... and perhaps a bit more ...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We learn more about what has happened to Mario. And Erik and Marco come - a lot - closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you wonder why Erik is being such a tease here. Well he is a bit of a tease. But it's more than that. He is taking a big risk and he wants to give Marco the chance to back off at any point.
> 
> A comment on language. I haven't used any seventeenth-century language but have avoided using anything too obviously modern. I kept their names unchanged as they all have fairly classic names that existed in some form or another somewhere in Europe at this time. When it came to the more intimate scenes where I obviously couldn't write in formal English all the time, I have only used terms which existed in seventeenth-century English and are still used today with the same meaning.

It sometimes came as a shock to Marco when he realised that Erik had only been in Dortmund for a matter of weeks as he could no longer imagine life without him. Marco knew that he had been lucky. He had not had to go off and fight. He had not experienced the same hardships as Erik or that he so greatly feared Mario was going through right now. But he felt the crushing weight of responsibility every day, of being responsible for the safety and security of thousands of people, people whose lives could depend on him and his decisions should the diplomacy of the city council ever fail.

Being able to share his life with someone was what he had so badly needed. Now that he had met Erik, he was able to share the burden of his responsibilities, even put them aside for a while. He felt less tense, the lines which had begun to be etched round his mouth and eyes had eased and he walked with a spring in his step. His leg ached a little less, which may have been due to the warmer weather, but Marco liked to imagine that it was because of Erik’s calming, comforting presence.

The nights they spent together in Marco’s bedchamber were precious to him, especially when they were curled up in Marco’s great bed that had become their own private, intimate world. Erik’s nightmares were becoming rarer and rarer now and he was even able to speak about some of his adventures. If the war had not come, Marco would have travelled, perhaps to study, or to visit the city’s trading partners. Instead his world had been contracted to within the walls of Dortmund and the distances he rode out to secure the perimeter.

That was why he was so enthralled by Erik’s tales of the exotic soldiers and mercenaries he had met from all across Europe. Of the Laplanders of whom it was said that they had magical powers. Of the Scots who had come to fight in their tens of thousands, brave warriors to be feared who had given the Swedes many mighty generals, some of whom fought wearing knee-length skirts of a strange checked pattern.

***

Großkreutz came back towards the end of June so a night of riotous celebration was called for. Marco had prepared Erik to meet this larger than life character, telling him that he was big, noisy and sometimes spoke bluntly, but that he was loyal to a fault, had a heart of gold and would give you the shirt off his back if you needed it.

Marco enjoyed these convivial evenings spent with Erik and his friends. He was pleased to see the growing friendship between Erik and Matthias. They had come late to _zum goldenen Löwen_ tonight, laughing and joking together and brushing dirt off their sleeves. Marco had raised a questioning eyebrow and it was Matthias who had answered him.

‘We had to sort out a couple of the younger men who had started a brawl in the street on the way here. They are good boys, but still wild and untamed, desperate to show their mettle. They’ll be fine, but they need to learn self-control first. Erik and I pulled them off each other by the scruff of their necks and they’ve learned their lesson.’

But he was happy when Erik slipped unbidden into the space beside Marco at the long wooden table. Somehow everyone just knew that Erik and Marco belonged together. They smiled at each other, smiles full of warmth and friendship and understanding.

Marco was just thinking that he had never felt so at peace and contented as this, relaxing with his friends, his thigh pressed up against Erik’s under the table, when a question from Großkreutz interrupted his thoughts.

‘Hey Marco. How is Mario? Have you heard from him recently? You two were always joined at the hip as I remember.’

The room swam before Marco’s eyes. All of a sudden he felt sick and dizzy, He had to get out of there. Now. As he ran blindly out of the tavern, climbing over Erik in his haste to get out into the fresh air, he could hear Sven answering the question for him, trying to distract everyone from his strange behaviour.

Once outside, he tried to pull himself together, but ended up vomiting in the street, retching painfully as his stomach emptied its contents onto the cobblestones. Once there was nothing left for him to vomit up, he leaned back against the wall of the inn, his skin sweaty and clammy, his heart racing in his chest. It wasn’t being asked about Mario that had distressed him so much, it was Großkreutz’s questioning of him in front of Erik, when Marco had been enjoying Erik’s closeness and had almost forgotten about Mario.

He apologised as he slid back into his place beside Erik, ‘Sorry everybody, too much beer for me tonight.’

Großkreutz heartily slapped him on the back, ‘That’s my Marco, my old drinking buddy.’

But Marco could feel three contemplative pairs of eyes on him. Erik, Matthias and Sven knew that he hadn’t had too much to drink, knew that he would never risk being less than 100% capable of carrying out his duties at any time of the day or night.

That night it was Erik who held Marco in the dark watches of the night, calming him as he tossed and turned in the throes of his nightmare. And Erik never asked him why as the sun came up again.

***

June’s heat was beginning to turn into an uncomfortable July. Marco was sitting on the side of the bed when Erik walked into the room he had come to think of as ‘theirs’. But tonight Erik gave him a strange look. Marco couldn’t decide if it was challenging, teasing or provocative.

‘It’s too hot in here. I’m hot,’ Erik complained as he pulled his shirt over his head, never breaking eye contact with Marco.

Marco swallowed. He had no idea what was happening. But he liked it. Marco’s eyes luxuriated in the sight of Erik’s broad shoulders, strong arms and well-developed chest muscles. For a moment he wondered what it would be like to lick Erik, to taste him with his tongue, tracing the lines of his beautifully modelled collar bone, pausing to lavish attention on his pert nipples, before continuing downwards across his flat, defined stomach muscles. Marco stopped thinking there, before his imaginings became too graphic and his body betrayed his lustful thoughts. He shook his head to try to clear his mind.

But Erik didn’t stop there. Slowly, teasingly slowly, he undid the fastenings on his breeches, lowering them to the ground and stepping out of them. Marco shifted uncomfortably on the bed. He could feel himself starting to get hard, hard at the thought of Erik stripping for him - for that was the only logical explanation for what was happening - hard at the thought of running his tongue across Erik’s smooth skin. Hard at the thought of Erik.

Erik stood in front of him, wearing only his light silk summer underdrawers. They were loose enough to obscure what lay underneath, but still clung to Erik’s body and Marco’s fevered imagination had no difficulties filling in the gaps. Erik cocked his head to one side and smiled slightly. His gaze never breaking contact with Marco, he undid the ribbons holding his drawers closed, letting them slide over his hips and fall quietly to the floor.

Erik was naked in front of him and Marco had never seen a more intoxicating or arousing sight. Erik was simply beautiful, with well-muscled thighs - Marco groaned inwardly, he wanted to run his tongue up and down those gorgeous thighs too - and a cock which was just starting to show its interest in what might be happening.

Over the years they had been separated, Marco had come to realise that he loved Mario. That was why he had lost control and kissed him when they said goodbye. But they had been young, they had never allowed their relationship to develop beyond that of brothers and childhood soulmates.

Marco wasn’t entirely sure if he loved Erik yet. He knew that he was fascinated by him. That he needed him by his side. And he knew that he wanted him. How he wanted him. Wanted to be naked in his arms. To pleasure him. To be pleasured by him. To feel him deep inside him. Wait! Did he really want that?

Marco realised that this was one of those watershed moments in life where you had to make a decision, where you had to face the truth about yourself, the truth that was hidden deep within the furthest recesses of your soul. He had always known that he was not that interested in women. Not like the other young men he knew were. Not like he was supposed to be.

He loved children and would dearly love a child of his own if he could ever offer it a safe and secure home to grow up in. But the idea of being with a woman in that way, of living with a woman, of trying to love a woman as she deserved to be loved, had always been too big a hurdle for him. And the war had allowed him to postpone that decision for longer than would have been customary for a man in his position.

And, if he was truly honest with himself, he had known for a long time somewhere deep inside that he was attracted to men. But this was different. This wasn’t a theoretical man. This was Erik. Erik who was offering himself to him. Naked physically. And, despite the bravado, naked emotionally. This was the moment that Marco had to decide if he was really willing to admit that he wanted to be with another man. To give his body to another man. To perhaps give his heart to another man.

Erik looked at him again, hands on hips. ‘Well?’ was all he said, the challenge clear in his voice.

Marco swallowed hard again. He stood up. Faced Erik. Marco took off his shirt and stepped out of his breeches. That was the easy bit. Since Marco hadn’t been prepared to strip for Erik, he had to sit down again rather inelegantly to take off his stockings. That was the precise moment at which he had no doubt that Erik had planned the whole thing in advance. Breathing deeply and aware that he was blushing, Marco stood up again and slowly, ever so slowly, undid the fastenings on his drawers and let them slip down his thighs.

Now that he was finally naked, he stood proudly in front of Erik, half hard by now. Erik looked at him, running his gaze up and down his body, taking in every curve, hill and valley, every plane of muscle. It was as if Erik was carrying out Marco’s own fantasy of licking every inch of Erik’s body, but with his eyes. Then he spoke. Marco held his breath.

‘Let’s go to sleep,’ said Erik and climbed into bed.

Marco climbed into bed beside him, the linen covers cool against his overheated skin. Marco was seriously confused now and left a gap between their bodies. But, just like every other night, Erik closed the gap between them and snuggled up against him, wriggling happily until their bodies were a complete fit. But this time they were completely naked and Marco could feel Erik’s groin pressed up against his buttocks.

Marco awoke several hours later. He could feel Erik hard against his back, his hard cock pressing into Marco’s soft skin and against hard muscle. He himself was incredibly, painfully hard; he could smell his own arousal in the morning air. Then Erik’s hand, which had been resting on Marco’s hip, slipped forward and unerringly found its way to rest upon Marco’s cock, putting just enough delicious pressure on it to arouse him further but not enough to satisfy him. It took all of Marco’s willpower not to thrust against Erik’s hand or he would have risked coming all over Erik’s fingers all too quickly.

Marco lay there, enjoying and suffering this sweet torture for what seemed like an eternity but was probably only a matter of minutes, until Erik stirred, wished him good morning, took his hand off his cock as if nothing unusual had happened overnight and hopped out of bed whistling a happy tune.

Marco shook his head groggily, almost dazed with lust, and tried to focus on the day ahead. This happened five nights in a row. Erik went to bed snuggled up against Marco’s back and Marco woke up rock hard, with Erik’s hand on his cock and feeling Erik’s erection pressed against his buttocks. By now Marco was almost mindless with desire, morning, day and night. Every time he saw Erik his cock twitched excitedly, which since they spent much of the day and all of the night together was extremely inconvenient.

He swore that he would ask Erik what was going on this very evening. But it was as if Erik had read his mind. They climbed into bed as usual, but this time Erik moved so he was lying facing Marco.

‘Can I ask you something?’

‘Of course’, Marco answered.

‘You’re twenty-seven, no wife, no children …’

Marco sighed. ‘There is a girl. My friends know her. She’s perfect for me. Kind. Funny. Blonde. Beautiful. An amazing smile. Loves dogs and horses.’ He let his voice trail off …

‘Have there been others?’

‘Well plenty of women have shown themselves willing, but I have never been that interested in meaningless sex. Or something just for one night. And the last few years have been difficult.’ Marco shrugged. ‘I’ve always … um … seen to my own needs.’

Erik bit his lip slightly, worrying a red patch in it. His voice softened. ‘Did you, have you lost … someone … in the war?’

Something in the way Erik said the word ‘someone’ made Marco feel like he could tell Erik the whole truth about Mario.

***

‘And you haven’t seen him for over three years?’ asked Erik.

‘No,’ sighed Marco. ‘The first year we had regular news of him. All was going well, he was a hero in Bavaria. His Spanish commanding officer placed a lot of trust in him. His regiment was victorious in many battles. But then the news began to get less and less positive. Then he got injured. That was last October. And since then …’

Erik said nothing. He stretched out his hand, entangling it in Marco’s hair in a way that was somehow soothing and possessive at the same time. And then he leant forward and kissed Marco, softly at first, with those beautiful plush lips that Marco had dreamed of kissing when he lay awake watching Erik sleeping all those weeks ago. Now that he had finally put his feelings for Mario into words, he felt less guilty about desiring someone else.

Then Erik licked over Marco’s lips, begging for entrance. As their tongues met, duelling for dominance, as Erik’s tongue thrust deeply in his mouth, thrusting into his mouth in the way that he longed for Erik’s cock to thrust into him, Marco forgot everything but his desire for Erik.

They kissed heatedly, feverishly, making love to each other’s mouths in a frantic attempt to ease the frustration of the past few days and weeks. They held each other tightly, as if they would never let go, fingers and nails scratching at delicate flesh. Marco was hard, harder than he knew was possible, his cock now leaking milky drops of pleasure and smearing them on Erik’s abdomen. Erik was no less hard. Marco’s stomach was becoming sticky with drops of Erik’s nectar and Marco revelled in the sweet stickiness bonding them together.

This time he had no reservations about thrusting towards Erik. When their cocks rubbed together, wet and sticky, smooth like silk and gorgeously hard, Marco groaned at the delicious friction. He knew he was going to come and come soon and this time he had no intention of doing anything but spurting his release all over Erik.

But then Erik stopped and pulled away from Marco. Marco desperately tried to claw him back. He wasn’t going to let Erik back away now. No more games. Not when they were so close. Not when he had finally stepped off the cliff into the abyss below, admitting how much he wanted a man, how much he wanted this man in particular.

But Erik shook his head. ‘No. Not like this, I want to feel you. Taste you.’

Marco had no idea what he was talking about until he felt Erik’s hot mouth on his skin. It was as if Erik had read his fantasy. Erik’s tongue gently traced the line of Marco’s collar bone, licking and sucking at the fragrant skin, lingering in the hollow at the base of Marco’s throat, nipping gently where the pronounced line of the bone met his shoulder. Then Erik’s agile tongue moved lower, licking circles over Marco’s chest, tracing circles round the sensitive nipple before capturing its prey. Erik licked, sucked and bit Marco’s nipple mercilessly.

Marco had had no idea that he would enjoy having his nipples stimulated so much. His back arched from the bed, pressing his body against Erik’s mouth. He was moaning almost uncontrollably without any shame. The night air was cooler than Erik’s mouth when Erik finally released Marco’s abused nipple, making him shiver. Then Erik licked his way toward Marco’s other nipple, subjecting it to the same treatment. If Marco thought he had been out of his mind with lust before, he had no way to describe how he felt now. His cock was aching to be touched, aching for release, and dripping with wetness.

Erik let go of his nipple and looked Marco deep in the eyes, like he had done on the night he stripped for Marco and set all of this in motion. ‘I am going to tease you. This will be sweet torture. You will be begging for me to make you come. Relax. Enjoy. You will come. And come deep in my mouth screaming my name.’

And then Erik’s mouth and tongue moved further down. Licking across Marco’s ribs, where the skin was tightly stretched over his lean frame. Dipping into his navel, which made Marco cry out with unexpected pleasure. Licking across the sensitive skin of his lower abdomen. Biting into the sharp curve of his hipbone. By now Marco had given up any attempt at rational thought. He just held onto the promise that Erik would make him come.

Then Erik sat up and sat back on his heels. He looked at Marco, an intense look on his face, his eyes dark with desire. ‘Open your thighs for me,’ he commanded.

Marco obeyed as there was no way he wanted this to end. But he felt so exposed and vulnerable like this. Even more exposed than he had felt lying naked and moaning under Erik.

Erik looked at Marco again for a long while, drinking in his beauty, the smooth muscled lines of his thighs, his balls pulled high and tight against his body and his gorgeous cock, now flushed deep red, straining into the night air of their bedroom and wet at the tip.

Finally, to Marco’s profound relief, Erik bent over him once again, licking his inner thighs, his pink tongue flickering over Marco’s pale skin like a cat lapping delicately at a bowl of milk. He bit down gently where Marco’s thighs met his buttocks and Marco groaned at the heady mix of pain and pleasure. He knew that Erik’s face was right next to his cock. He knew that Erik would be able to see and smell his arousal and Marco gloried in the thought. Erik’s tongue moved closer to where Marco longed for it to be, flicking over the soft skin between his thighs and his balls.

Just when Marco thought that nothing else could surprise him, Erik’s tongue slipped lower, massaging him behind his balls, where Marco was so sensitive that he cried out with pleasure. Marco remembered his unexpected desire to be taken by Erik. Marco should have been begging Erik to make him come by now, but he realised that he trusted Erik’s promise that it would happen. And he almost didn’t want this to stop.

But the end was in sight. Erik licked over his balls. Gently taking first one then the other in his mouth and sucking. Marco’s skin was sticky with sweat, saliva and the fluid he and Erik had leaked. Then Erik took a deep breath and slowly but firmly licked Marco’s cock from its base to just below the head, stopping just short of the sensitive tip. Marco’s whole body shot up from the bed, jerking with the unexpected pleasure. Erik repeated his action, over and over again until Marco finally started to beg, ‘Please, please, Erik. It’s too much. I need …‘

Then Erik slowly dipped his tongue in Marco’s sensitive slit, causing Marco to cry out again, tasting him, licking up every drop of the delicious nectar.

‘Oh Marco, you taste so good,’ he groaned, ‘and you’re going to feel so good in my mouth.’

By now Marco was so aroused and desperate for release that just the feeling of Erik’s breath ghosting over the tip of his penis caused him to moan. Erik lowered his head again, first taking the sensitive head of Marco’s cock into his mouth and swirling around it with his tongue. Then he finally took Marco into his mouth. Nothing had ever felt so good, so warm and wet, as Erik licking and sucking him

Marco knew he wouldn’t last long. Erik was holding his hips to stop him thrusting upwards and he just lay back and allowed Erik to suck his orgasm from him. He came with such force that he almost blacked out with the pleasure, spurting jets of hot, salty pleasure down Erik’s throat. And, just like Erik had promised, he came calling out Erik’s name over and over again.

Marco returned to his senses to find Erik holding him in his arms, looking at him ever so tenderly, stroking his hair, calming him like he was a startled horse. That was when Marco knew what he wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much of the sexual terminology we use was available, although I only have 'come' as a verb, not a noun. The most common word for penis (a word which itself appears in the late seventeenth century) at the time would have been 'prick', as in Shakespeare, but it is a bit of an odd word to use today in a romantic sexual context. And I would have loved to be able to use some of the very descriptive older terms, such as 'acorn' or 'bishop's mitre' for the head of the penis!
> 
> There were about 40-50,000 Scottish troops active in the campaigns of the Thirty Years War and the one of the earliest depictions of kilts and tartan is a 1631 woodcut showing Scottish troops in the service of Gustavus Adolphus of Sweden. Although most of the Scots would have worn conventional military dress. There is a lot of contemporary propaganda and surviving folk culture about the fear of these foreign invaders, especially the Swedes and the barbarians from the north.
> 
> Erik has to be careful for two reasons. Apart from the issue of attitudes to same sex relationships at the time, which I don't really want to get into here, his life in Dortmund is also completely dependent on Marco as you can't just walk into a pre-modern city and start living there. His right to be in Dortmund comes from Marco and Marco's social standing and Marco is to some extent his guarantor.


	4. A first time for everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco has a surprising request for Erik.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This wasn't meant to be the next chapter, but Marco had other ideas and managed to convince me and Erik that he was right.
> 
> The plot will get going in earnest in the next chapter and I promise that we will find out a) how Marco got injured and b) exactly what has happened to Mario. I have a list of things to be explained over the course of the story as it can't all go in the early chapters, but if there is something you really want to know please tell me in case it is not on my list!

‘Erik … you … you … you need … you … ' Marco stuttered brokenly.

‘Shsssh. It’s alright, Marco. I’m fine.’

‘No, Erik. I want ... I want …’ Marco broke Erik’s gaze and from somewhere he found the courage to whisper, ‘I want you to take me. I want you to make love to me. I want you to be the first one.’

Erik was so shocked that he almost drew back, before he realised that Marco would see that as rejection, that Marco needed to be held close right now.

‘Are you completely sure, darling?’ he asked, momentarily taken aback by using the term of endearment without thinking, ‘I mean … you have just … today … well … for the first time …’ Now it was Erik who could barely construct a coherent sentence from his turbulent thoughts.

Of course Erik wanted Marco, he had wanted him almost from the moment he first laid eyes on him. But he knew from experience that the first time could be uncomfortable and he hated the thought of causing Marco pain, especially after they had just shared such a perfect intimate moment together. Not to mention that Marco gifting him his virginity was a far, far bigger step than what they had just done, one that would change both of their lives in ways that were not yet wholly clear to him.

And then there was the thought which he tried to push to the back of his mind, the nagging doubt that perhaps Marco would have preferred his first time to be with someone else, with Mario.

‘Yes,’ said Marco, raising his eyes to meet Erik’s again, ‘I want this … and I want you … and I want it tonight. I’ve waited long enough for the right one. If we don’t do this now, I will only worry about it and get more anxious. It will become an even bigger hurdle in my mind.’

Erik thought for a moment, wrinkling his brow in concentration. He could see Marco’s logic. And Marco was still incredibly relaxed and pliant from his powerful orgasm, which would make preparing him much easier and make it more comfortable for him. Erik had a suspicion that this was the first time Marco had shared his climax with someone else, which was why he had wanted to make it as special and memorable for him as possible, for them not just to come rutting against each other as could so easily have happened.

Erik was in awe of the incredible trust that Marco was putting in him and of Marco’s courage. He realised that there was no way he could say no. He had teased Marco for weeks, driving him into a frenzy of sexual desire and longing, and it would be far too cruel to reject him now, not when Marco had finally been brave enough to admit who he was and what he wanted. And the truth was that Erik didn’t want to.

‘I want you too, Marco, you have no idea just how desperately I want you. But if at any point you change your mind or feel uncomfortable, you must say so. Promise me. We can always try again another time if you want.’

Marco nodded, his throat suddenly too dry to speak.

‘Tell me sweetheart, when I licked you behind your balls, did that feel good?’ While he waited nervously for Marco’s answer, Erik mused again on just how easy and natural it felt to call Marco sweetheart.

‘Oh yes!’ breathed Marco, flushing slightly at the memory.

Erik kissed Marco again, deeply and passionately, before stroking him on the cheek. ‘I want you to lie on your back for me, darling. Like before, but with your knees bent at right angles. Don’t think about what is going to happen. Just relax. Try and enjoy.’

Marco looked confused but obeyed. Erik took a deep breath. If they were going to do this tonight, in their first real night together, there was no point in being squeamish about it. He would do everything he could to make it as painless and as pleasurable for Marco and this was the best way he knew how. Although he was burning up from the inside with his own unfulfilled desire, he would control that. If Marco was willing to trust him this much. If Marco was willing to give him this most precious gift. Then he would do anything for Marco.

Erik tried not to think about what Marco had meant when he said that he had waited for the right one. He tried not to hope that that Marco had meant what Erik so desperately wanted him to mean.

_***_

Marco lay there, trembling, trying not to think too much. Yes, he wanted this. And he wanted Erik. But he was so nervous. He had no idea what to expect. He was still relaxed from his orgasm and shivered, this time in anticipation, when he felt Erik’s breath ghosting over the incredibly over-sensitive skin of his private parts. He felt Erik kneel between his open thighs and gently take hold of them.

Erik lowered his head and started to lick at the sensitive spot behind Marco’s balls that had given him such unexpected pleasure before. It felt as good this time. But different. Erik’s tongue felt different, somehow more demanding, the pressure was greater. Even though he had come not long ago, Marco felt his cock start to stiffen again. After a few minutes of this mind-blowing stimulation, Erik surprised him again by raising Marco’s thighs, exposing the most intimate part of his body.

Marco was confused. Surely Erik didn’t think he was ready? Marco felt a sharp stab of fear. He was almost about to ask Erik to stop, when his fear was overtaken by surprise and an astonished ‘ooooh’ was all that came out of his mouth. Erik’s warm, wet, agile tongue had moved further back and was now licking Marco between the cheeks of his spread buttocks, licking relentlessly round the perimeter of his entrance, putting gentle pressure on the muscle with every stroke. He could feel Erik’s saliva on his skin and knew that Erik was trying to get him as relaxed and as wet as possible. If the feeling of Erik’s mouth round his cock had been unbelievable, this was every bit as good.

Marco worried for a moment about the strain on his leg where he had been injured. But then he realised that Erik had thought of that too and was carefully supporting his left leg to avoid putting any unnatural pressure on it. That was when Marco finally relaxed and felt totally safe. Safe with Erik whom he completely and utterly trusted. Marco shut his eyes and surrendered to the pleasure of Erik’s caresses, just as he felt Erik’s tongue start to open him up and slip inside him. Marco moaned contentedly.

***

Erik was aware that he needed to take care of Marco’s leg in this position to avoid putting too much stress on it. He concentrated on licking Marco steadily, trying to relax him and get him as lubricated as possible. He didn’t exactly know why, but he sensed that Marco had somehow relaxed, had surrendered to the pleasure he was obviously experiencing, as was evidenced by the constant stream of soft moans he was emitting. Erik’s tongue was now able to breach the strong outer rim of Marco’s muscle, penetrating him and with gentle thrusts and tender licks beginning the delicate task of stretching Marco sufficiently to be able to take Erik’s cock without experiencing too much discomfort.

Erik was surprised by how much he was enjoying this. Being intimate with someone in this way had never been something he had particularly enjoyed. He would do anything for Marco though, and he had sensed from his reactions earlier that he might really enjoy this. But now Erik was actually relishing not just wringing such pleasure from Marco, but doing something that felt so incredibly close and personal. He wondered if Marco would ever do this for him. And then a thought crossed his mind that almost made him lose his rhythm. He wanted to know how it would feel to have Marco deep inside him. Erik had never particularly enjoyed being taken either. But with Marco it might be different.

With that exciting and scary thought in his head, Erik redoubled his efforts, thrusting his tongue into Marco as fast and as hard as he could. Marco moaned, gasping breathlessly into the night. When Erik judged that he had opened Marco as much as he could with his tongue, he gently pulled it out. Marco whined at the loss.

‘It’s alright, Marco. You’ll get what you need soon. I promise,’ Erik whispered.

He returned to licking Marco, taking comfort in the return of Marco’s soft moans. He added a finger, gently but firmly putting pressure on Marco, before inserting it up to the knuckle. Marco felt amazing, hot and tight. Erik could barely comprehend the fact that he would soon be buried deep inside Marco, hopefully making him moan even harder than he was already. Sensing that Marco remained relaxed, he pushed in deeper, feeling almost no resistance.

Erik lifted his head, ‘How does it feel, darling?’

Marco was almost delirious with his arousal and the completely new sensation of being filled, but managed to breathe out, ‘Amazing. Thank you.’

They still had a long way to go, thought Erik, but it was his responsibility to make it nothing but pleasurable for Marco, at least as far as it was in his power to do so.

‘Put your left leg over my shoulder, sweetheart. And relax.’ Erik bent his head again, licking and sucking Marco everywhere he could reach, while his finger thrust in and out of the tight channel. Erik added a second finger, pausing slightly while Marco gasped as he got used to this much fuller feeling inside him. Now Erik was able to reach deeper inside Marco and his fingers brushed over the sensitive knob that caused Marco to cry out in pleasure. Erik chuckled, the vibrations tickling Marco’s skin. Erik thrust his fingers in and out of Marco, regularly hitting that spot which caused Marco to gasp and moan.

Erik could see that Marco was rock hard again and shedding precious drops of fluid when Erik hit his sweet spot. Erik was reluctant to risk hurting Marco, but he knew that he would have to add another finger if Marco was ever to be able to accept him. This time there was a sharp intake of breath and Erik’s heart sank at the thought that Marco wouldn’t be able to take it.

‘I’m sorry, sweetheart. I know it hurts. Do you want me to stop?’

‘No,’ said Marco, ‘I want this.’ But Erik could hear the uneven tremor in his voice.

Erik waited patiently, even though he was in an uncomfortable position. He had guessed that it might be easier for Marco this way, to be able to simply lie back and focus on the new and unfamiliar sensations coursing through his body. Finally he felt Marco relax and some of the tension leave his walls. He gently started to thrust with three fingers into Marco, relief flooding through him when he heard Marco start to moan again and felt him instinctively start to move his hips in time with Erik’s thrusts.

Finally he judged Marco to be as open as possible. ‘Marco. Darling. It’s time. You’re ready.’

Marco squirmed underneath him as Erik sat up and cast his eyes around the room. He was looking for something. Yes, the salve they used to protect their hands from damage caused by riding or handling weapons. Linseed oil and beeswax. That would do. Erik warmed it in his hands, spreading a generous amount round and inside Marco’s now relaxed and open hole, being rewarded with another low moan. Then he coated his own member with the salve, shuddering at the touch. He had ignored his own desire for so long now, he could suppress it for a few minutes longer for Marco’s sake.

Erik supported himself over Marco, who looked up at him with those wonderful amber eyes. They had played games with their feelings over these past days, looking deep into one another’s eyes as a form of challenge. But this was real. They were about to be joined as closely as two human beings could be and it had never felt this way for Erik before. It had never felt so real or so important.

Erik faltered, almost unable to go on when Marco said exactly what he needed to hear to give him strength, ‘It’s alright. I trust you, my love. With my heart and my body.’

Erik swallowed and nudged the head of his penis against Marco’s entrance. He knew that now he would have to hurt Marco and it broke his heart a little, but if he was too hesitant he would just make it more difficult for Marco. He pressed gently but insistently and felt Marco opening for him. Marco’s breathing became a little erratic and he could hear short, sharp intakes of breath. But Marco was taking him, gradually, inch by inch, and it felt wonderful to be inside him, better than anything Erik could ever have imagined.

He stopped when he was buried to the hilt inside Marco. He needed to give Marco time to adjust to the intrusion, but he also needed it for himself. He needed time to adjust to this blissful feeling of being entirely encased by Marco’s warm tightness, of being completely surrounded by Marco. Then, completely unexpectedly and despite his desperate attempts to control his emotions, he began to cry, finally feeling safe and protected enough to let out everything that had happened over the last nine years, since the burning of his village.

Although Erik knew that he was more fortunate than many - he still had his parents and sister - he had never thought that there would be anywhere he felt safe enough to call home again. But he had found it here. Behind the strong walls defending the city of Dortmund. Within the strong walls of their bedroom. Inside the strongest walls of them all, those of Marco himself. Erik had finally found a place where he was strong enough to put down all the burdens he had carried and find rest. So he cried.

***

Marco had seen Erik’s hesitancy as he supported himself over Marco’s body. He knew that he had to find the right words to give Erik courage, to reassure him that he had done everything right to make this as pleasurable as possible. Even through the hazy veil of Marco’s lust-fogged consciousness, he was dimly aware that he had called Erik ‘love’. But that was one more thing to push to the back of his mind.

For now he concentrated on welcoming Erik into his body. And it felt so good. So right. Yes, Erik was big. Much bigger than anything Marco could ever have imagined taking this deep inside him. Yes, it burned a little. And that first moment when Erik had breached him had almost been too much to bear. But Erik had pressed into him slowly but surely, with continual gentle pressure, giving Marco time to adapt and eventually even begin to enjoy Erik’s slow slide inside him.

And then it happened. Erik was buried deep inside him, balls deep, their bodies melded together. Marco felt completely and utterly filled and possessed in a way he had never thought possible. And it felt wonderful. Marco had never really understood what he was missing, but now he knew, finally he felt complete.

Erik had stilled, giving Marco time to get use to this new sensation. Marco opened his eyes, which he had kept tightly shut ever since Erik had started to slowly inch into him. To his complete horror he saw that Erik was crying, tears spilling down his beautiful face, his shoulders shaking with the force of the sobs Erik was so desperately trying to suppress.

Marco’s face softened. He realised that Erik must be feeling the same depth of emotions as he himself was. Marco reached up and pulled Erik towards him, pulling Erik on top of his body, pulling Erik even deeper into his body if that was possible. He kissed Erik’s soft brown hair and held him close while the last few sobs wracked Erik’s body, before ever so gently kissing the tear stains off Erik’s cheeks.

‘I’m so sorry,’ Erik snuffled into the crook of Marco’s neck. ‘I’ve ruined everything.’

‘Of course you haven’t. It’s the exact opposite. It’s perfect. More than I could ever have dreamed of,’ Marco assured him, tenderly stroking Erik’s hair. ‘But,‘ and here Marco paused to chuckle slightly, ‘I’d be most eternally grateful if you could start to move.’

Erik smiled, Marco’s laughter breaking the tension in the air. ‘Of course. How inconsiderate of me. Put your legs round my waist, darling.’

Marco did as Erik asked. Erik raised himself up over Marco. This time they kept their eyes locked on each other, their gazes never breaking contact, connected body and soul. Erik moved slowly and steadily in and out of Marco. He knew that Marco would be far too sensitive for anything else by now. He would be sore enough in the morning as it was. And anyway, Erik wanted to make this last an eternity.

Within a few strokes Erik hit the spot deep inside Marco that made the older man cry out with sharp pleasure. Erik continued to move slowly but surely, thrusting deep into Marco, making him cry out every time he hit his prostrate. And then Erik felt what he had been waiting for. He felt Marco’s walls start to cramp around him. He felt Marco’s wet release against his abdomen. Finally Erik could let go. As he collapsed, spent and exhausted on Marco’s body, the words just slipped out.

‘I love you, Marco.’

And the longed for reply, which came just as Erik was drifting off into sleep.

‘I love you, Erik.’


	5. Erik's Dilemma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik and Marco are now together. Erik couldn't be happier but can't help thinking about Mario, Marco's first love.

As the summer morning sunshine found its way through the cracks in the window shutters, Erik slowly opened his eyes. He was curled round Marco, his right arm wrapped across Marco’s chest, tightly, possessively, like he never wanted to let go. Erik sighed to himself. He had given his heart away with no chance of ever getting it back. He hoped that Marco really did love him and hadn’t just been overcome by emotion last night. But all of his fears were soon chased away by the feel of Marco’s hot, sweet lips against his in a passionate good morning kiss.

The days that followed were the happiest of Erik’s life. He and Marco spent most of their days and all of their nights together. They inspected every stone of the fortifications over and over again, checked and double-checked the supply stores, and went over the emergency plans for the defence of the city for the hundredth time. Erik and Marco personally undertook the supervision of the weapon drills and the weapons training for the younger men.

Erik had always taken these duties seriously, but they meant even more to him now that he and Marco were together, now that Dortmund was truly his home. Erik had been alone in a cold and unforgiving world for nine years now, having to make his own way and fend for himself. Even the army had never given him true comradeship as he had moved from Dutch, to Danish and then to Swedish service, fighting alongside troops from all over Europe who spoke a multitude of languages.

Erik had seldom been alone in the literal sense. Since birth he had always been surrounded by other people, but after leaving home he had felt constantly lonely, lacking anyone to share his deepest hopes, fears and dreams with. He had learned to suppress his emotions in order to cope, to pretend not to care, to pretend not to need anybody. All that had changed for him when he met Marco. The risk of loving Marco and his new home was something that Erik still had to fully come to terms with, for he knew that the pain of losing what he now loved would be far, far greater than the pain of being alone. Erik had survived so much in his young life, but he doubted that he could overcome that loss.

Some of the happiest times were when Erik and Marco rode out together, visiting the villages and farmland that surrounded the city. Marco always rode his magnificent black stallion Thunderbolt, or Bolt for short, who disliked having anyone but Marco on his back. Erik loved to watch Marco on horseback. He was so elegant and graceful, his strong muscles moving smoothly and rhythmically in time with Bolt’s, completely at one with his beloved steed

One day they rode much further south than usual, crossing the Ruhr to visit the tiny village of Hagen. Marco had a set, drawn look on his face. Erik didn’t ask why, he knew that Marco would tell him when he was ready.

They stopped by the roadside and dismounted. With his hands twisting and threading through Bolt’s mane, Marco finally told Erik exactly how he had been wounded. In a low, hoarse voice he retold the story of how he, Sven and some of the others had come across a group of deserters last year, wild marauders who took what they wanted without asking. They were no threat to a group of heavily armed and mounted men. But they had attacked some of the villagers. One of the village men had been killed. The children were crying. And one of them had been about to rape a women.

They couldn’t just ride on and ignore that. Marco had been able to pull the man off the woman just in time, but not before he had drawn a dagger out of his belt and stabbed Marco in the thigh. There had been too big a risk of blood loss to remove the dagger from Marco’s thigh there and then, so he had had to ride back to Dortmund with it still buried in him, further aggravating the injury.

Unable to look Erik in the eyes, Marco told him how scared he had been that he would end up unable to work, unable to fight, unable to defend his beloved city. Erik took Marco briefly in his arms before sinking to his knees in the dirt. He pillowed his head on Marco’s left thigh, rubbing his cheek against the place where Marco had been wounded, where the scar was still visible, raised, red and angry against the pale skin. Marco took a hand from Bolt’s mane to bury it in Erik’s hair, finally able to make his peace with what had happened to him and his fears. And Erik now knew why Marco had been so moved when he had turned up at the gates of Dortmund with a group of women and children he'd rescued from renegade soldiers.

***

Erik also cherished the evenings they spent with their friends in _zum goldenen Löwen._ He loved sitting nestled close to Marco on the long wooden benches. How Marco would casually put his arm round his shoulder, a gesture of camaraderie that meant so much more for them, especially when Marco took the liberty of gently caressing the back of his neck. Erik saw Matthias looking at him with a smile one evening, working out exactly what was going on and nodding his approval.

At the end of the night they would walk through the streets with their arms round each other, along the Westenhellweg to the house that Erik now thought of as home, to the room where Erik and Marco spent every blissful night together. Talking. Kissing. So much kissing. Erik had never particularly appreciated kissing another man, that was one activity where he had always preferred the soft, yielding flesh of a woman, but Marco loved to kiss and they spent what felt like hours exploring each other’s mouths until their lips were red and swollen. They slept curled up together, even in the July heat. They would rather sleep without bedlinens than without each other.

And they did so much more than just sleep. At first Erik had refused to make love to Marco again so soon, wanting to give his body time to recover. But Marco had insisted, had begged Erik to take him for a second time. This time Erik kept his gaze locked on Marco’s face while he prepared him, cataloguing every movement, every shudder, every intake of breath, every moan Marco made.

Erik had been with both men and women before and, although he had always tried to treat his bed partners well, it had only ever been about satisfying a physical need. It had never been like it was with Marco. There had never been love. Or real passion. Nothing had ever felt as good as Marco’s lean, lithe, gorgeously muscled body writhing in ecstasy in his arms. And nobody had ever worshipped and adored Erik’s body like Marco did now.

Erik had known from the beginning that Marco was inexperienced, that he had only the vaguest notions of the kind of pleasures two men could enjoy together. That made the trust Marco had placed in Erik to be the one to guide him on this journey of discovery all the more precious. The first night they had spent together had been like the bursting of a dam and all of Marco’s far too long pent up passion and desire had come flooding out. And now Marco was insatiable.

Marco had confessed all the things he had craved to do to Erik since that very first day when he had watched him bathe, acting them out as he spoke. Erik had lain on his front while Marco kissed wet and open-mouthed down his spine, lavishing attention on the beautiful curve of his back, massaging every inch of skin with his tongue. And Marco had gone so much further than he had allowed himself to in his fevered imaginings, biting and nibbling at the soft mounds of Erik’s buttocks, spreading open the creamy globes to lick over the sensitive treasure hidden between them. Erik had barely recognised the sounds which erupted from him, something between a whine and a howl, and it took every ounce of his self-control not to thrust into the mattress seeking relief.

For nothing would feel better than when Marco finally showed mercy and turned him round so that he lay there, out of his mind with lust, moaning uncontrollably, legs apart, completely exposed to Marco’s gaze and the sweet torment of his mouth. Marco tormented him so exquisitely, licking long stripes of pleasure along his thighs, sucking his balls until Erik almost screamed with the agony of his need to come.

When at last Marco took him in his mouth, using his lips and tongue to drive him to his climax, the pleasure felt like red hot flames licking through his groin and up his spine until he exploded down Marco’s throat and Marco gladly swallowed down every drop he had to give.

Every night Erik went to sleep satiated alongside Marco. By rights he should have been exhausted by the long work days and convivial evenings followed by nights of ardent lovemaking, but Erik had never slept as soundly as he did now and he awoke refreshed every morning, ready to face the rigours of the day ahead.

***

But there was a dark shadow over Erik’s happiness. Erik had no doubts left that Marco loved him. Not only did Marco tell him so nearly every day, but he saw it in Marco’s expression when he looked at Erik in unguarded moments, in how they were together in the sanctuary of their bedchamber. But sometimes, when he thought Erik wasn’t looking, there was a faraway look in Marco’s eyes, a sad, wistful look. And Erik was sure he knew why. Marco was thinking of Mario.

Marco had loved Mario, but they had been far too young and inexperienced to know if it was more than brotherly love between childhood soulmates. But now Marco had met Erik. Now Marco had accepted who he was. Now Marco knew what it was like to fully give his heart and his body to another man. So it was not surprising that he was thinking about his beloved Sunny and wondering if they could have had that together. And of course he missed his boyhood friend and worried about him.

Erik sighed. Although he had never met Mario, he too worried about this young man who was almost exactly the same age as him. More than anyone else in Dortmund, Erik knew the dangers and the harsh reality of the life that Mario had chosen. He feared that Mario’s decision had been swayed by dreams and false bewitching promises of glory, adventure and fame. He had met Mario’s parents. His father was a schoolmaster in the city, the head of Dortmund’s renowned _Archigymnasium_. His mother was a warm-hearted welcoming woman, but you could see the deep lines of worry around her eyes. And if Marco loved Mario, he must be a very special young man indeed.

The Dortmund city council were well connected, but Erik had access to an extensive network of contacts from his long years of military service. Perhaps he could find something out? The terrible truth was that Mario was probably dead. But the long silence with no news could also mean that he was a prisoner. And Erik might have more luck finding him then.

Prisoners were often ransomed and Mario’s family would almost certainly have been able to raise the money. Maybe Mario had been reluctant to tell his captors who he was? Nobody from Dortmund was supposed to enlist so who would expect that an Imperial soldier came from there? But, and Erik hated himself for even thinking this, if Mario came back, maybe he and Marco would realise how much they loved each other. And then Erik would lose the one man he could truly love in this world.

Erik knew he had to speak to someone about this, someone he could trust. But not Marco. Not yet. He wasn’t ready to face that. And he couldn’t raise false hope for Marco. Erik knew only too well that even if he could find out what happened to Mario, the chances of him being alive or being able to bring him home were slim.

Erik’s opportunity came when Marco had to stay in the city to attend a council meeting with his father. Erik rode out with Sven to the Steinerner Turm, a watchtower which stood some distance south of the city, guarding the road south to Cologne. This was the same road Erik had travelled on his journey to Dortmund and he marvelled at just how much his life had changed since he had had last seen this tower.

Julian and Matthias, two of the younger men, accompanied them, riding a slight distance behind Erik and Sven. Erik had grown close to Matthias, spending much of his free time when he was not with Marco with the younger boy. Erik snorted to himself. Younger boy indeed! Matthias was not even two years younger than Erik. But that felt like a lifetime to him. Although Erik had dared to begin to feel young and carefree again, to live the youth the war had taken from him, safe behind the walls of Dortmund and in Marco’s arms. Which brought him back to his dilemma.

***

They stopped by the watchtower. Leaving Julian and Matthias with the horses, Erik and Sven climbed the narrow winding stone staircase. They needed to check that everything was in good order, that the tower was intact and well supplied. The political situation was tense, the city was under imminent threat of occupation or siege. The city council were in session at this very moment, deliberating on how to avoid an Imperial army entering the city without risking a siege.

Outside was warm and bright, inside cold and dark, with only a little light penetrating the narrow window slits. Erik shivered. Inside the tower reflected how he felt in the dark corner of his soul that wrestled with the question of what to do about finding Mario.

‘Alright, Erik,’ demanded Sven, ‘tell me what’s troubling you.’

So Erik explained his dilemma. He didn’t need to tell Sven about his fears about his and Marco’s relationship. Sven knew all of them well enough and had spent enough time with them that that could remain unspoken.

Sven listened thoughtfully before answering. ‘If you believe you can find out anything without endangering the city, then you should do it. We did hear a rumour that he may have been sent back near here as a scout, to somewhere on the Rhine, but we couldn’t find out anything more. Mario’s parents have suffered terribly. His brother Fabian followed him to Munich. Thankfully he’s doing well, but his mother misses them both greatly. As do we all. As does Marco.’

Sven’s words both encouraged Erik and stabbed him to the heart. But Erik’s mind was made up, he would try and find Mario, even if it cost him his Marco. Erik nodded his agreement to Sven, unable to speak, and turned to go back down the stairs.

‘Erik!’ Sven’s voice stopped Erik in his tracks. ‘Marco loved Mario. They just never had the time to discover it for themselves. But he loves you too.’

***

That night Erik made love to Marco like he was trying to pour his soul into him, passionate and desperate, giving everything and holding nothing back. Afterwards, with his head pillowed on Marco’s chest and Marco’s hand stroking his hair, Erik took courage.

‘Marco, do you trust me? Do you trust me that I would never do anything to jeopardise this city and its people? That I would never risk any harm coming to you or anyone you care about?’

Marco’s hand stilled on Erik’s head. He was deeply alarmed. ‘Of course I trust you. But …’ Marco’s voice trailed off.

Erik raised himself up. He had to look into Marco’s eyes. He knew that Marco would see the truth there. ‘If I write some letters, will you make sure that they go to the messengers sealed and that any replies come to me unread? I promise I will tell you why when the time is right.’

Marco considered Erik’s request for a long while. He trusted Erik without reservation. It was that implicit trust in Erik’s goodness and honesty that had first brought them together. And moreover he loved Erik, loved him so deeply that it almost hurt to think about just how much he loved him sometimes. But his first duty was to Dortmund, to this city.

Finally he answered, a simple answer that nevertheless spoke volumes, ‘I trust you, Erik.’

Erik sent seven messages. Three answers came back. Marco kept his word and never asked. But he saw how Erik’s face fell as he read the messages. And then the fourth came.

***

Erik had asked Marco to gather their friends together. They met in a room in _zum goldenen Löwen_ , Großkreutz having arranged a private space for them where they could talk undisturbed.

Erik cleared his throat. ‘I had a hunch that Mario might have been taken prisoner and that perhaps I could find him. And I have.’

Several of those present gasped. Marco’s head shot up. Erik could hardly bear to look at the expression on his face, but excitement and hope shone in his eyes. No matter what happened, he could never deny Marco that.

‘Sven mentioned that you had heard a rumour that Mario may have been sent back to this area as a scout earlier this year. The Emperor’s forces were looking for ways to retake some key strongholds after peace had been made with Denmark and before the invading Swedish forces made it to the west. And you all know that I found my way to Dortmund from the Netherlands, escorting Scottish troops coming to serve with the Swedes.’

Erik looked round the room. Everyone was looking at him expectantly, but they seemed to be following his story. That was important as he needed to convince them that he wasn’t crazy, that he was telling the truth.

‘As a native German who had served with the Dutch and then fought under Danish command alongside the Scottish regiments in the Baltic, I was more valuable to the Swedes as a military liaison officer than as a field soldier. I have been stationed here in the west for some time, preparing for the front to move westwards.

I have built up a good network of contacts. They know and trust my credentials. And that is how I was able to find out that Mario is indeed a prisoner. He is being held captive by the Dutch forces who captured Wesel a couple of years ago. He was captured scouting the fortifications in April. They didn’t try to ransom him because he was a spy and he already had too much information.

The good news is that he is not being held in the main fortress, but in the much smaller citadel, where the river Lippe branches off the Rhine. It’s not far. We can easily ride there. It will take less than two days.’

Marco stood up. ‘But it’s going to be risky. Money might not be enough this time. We might have to try and bring Mario home by force. I can’t ask any of you to take that risk.’

Erik chewed his lip, a small spot of bright red blood appearing. He was about to make a decision which would change his life. And his new life might be without Marco if they were successful.

‘I can get us in. It still won’t be risk free. But we won’t have to storm the citadel.’

Marco nodded. ‘Alright. But still I only want volunteers.’

Every man in the room stood up.

Marco sighed. He had known they would do that. ‘Sven, you are about to become a father, you have to stay here and take command. Marc, Raphael, Roman, Lukasz, Pierre. You all have young children. You need to stay here and protect the city and keep the younger ones under control.’

Marco scanned the room. ‘I need six of you. André, Sebastian, the other Roman, Marcel, Julian and Matthias. If you want to come, Erik and I would be proud to have you at our sides.’

Operation ‘rescue Mario’ had begun.

***

Marco and Erik lay in bed that night. They badly needed to get some rest as they would be leaving in a day’s time and still had a lot to organise, but Marco could feel how just tense Erik was.

‘So how exactly do we do this?’ asked Marco.

‘Simple, we ride north west out of Dortmund and follow the river Lippe to Wesel. A small group approaching from the east. They’ll never suspect anything.’

‘Hrrrrrmph,’ snorted Marco, ‘and we just walk up and knock on the door?’

‘Yes,’ was Erik’s astonishing reply, ‘I still have my military credentials. I’m known in that region. That’s how I found out where Mario is. I’ll get us in by saying we are here to interrogate the spy. Hopefully we’ll be able to get Mario out without suspicion. In any case, fighting our way out will be easier than fighting our way in!’

Marco looked at Erik in horror. ‘But you are risking your military career! Wesel is held by the Dutch, not by Imperial forces. There is no way you can ever justify that. It’s not the same as you staying here in Dortmund.’

‘I don’t care,‘ Erik shrugged. ‘My family are safe. I won’t be able to live in Pirmasens again until the war is over anyway, even if I did want to go back there and become a farmer.

People have been changing sides for a decade now, Marco. Mercenaries do it all the time for money. The nobility and commanders do it for power and personal gain. I’m not picking the ”other side”, even if there is one any more in this pointless war. I’m not going over to the Emperor. I’m choosing Dortmund. I’m choosing you. I’m choosing home. I’m choosing true love.’

Erik stopped speaking. The man he loved might no longer want him if their mission was successful. Erik had made Dortmund his home and he could be happy here if he was allowed to stay, but could he live with the pain of living here and seeing Marco together with Mario?

It was as if Marco could read his thoughts. He took Erik in his arms, kissed his forehead and nestled him close, almost protectively.

Marco’s voice was hoarse with emotion. ‘Erik, I love you. You showed me who I am. You gave me the gift of your love. You are the most amazing man I have ever met. I have no idea how you could experience all the things you have and remain so strong but also so compassionate and loving.

What you are doing for us, risking everything to rescue Mario, just shows me once more what a wonderful person you are. I never want to be without you. We met less than two months ago, but I want to spend the rest of my life with you.’

By now both Marco and Erik were blinking away tears of happiness. But Marco knew he had to be totally honest with Erik, he owed him nothing less.

‘I know now that I loved Mario. And it was you who finally made me able to see that. I have no idea how deep Mario’s feelings for me were. If he truly loved me, then he wouldn’t have left. Or maybe he knew about his feelings for me and was scared of them so felt that Bavaria was his only way out?

But …' and here Marco’s voice cracked slightly, ‘The one thing I never told you is that I kissed Mario when we said goodbye, I mean properly kissed him. It was a desperate, painful kiss of frustration and despair, but there was something else there for both of us, something more than just friendship. We haven’t seen each other for over three years. I don’t know if anything of those feelings will have survived. All I do know is that I love you and we will never be separated, no matter what happens.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can still see the Steinerner Turm today. It stands not far from Signal Iduna Park, by the Westfalenhallen U-Bahnhof. The bottom section is original; the top has been restored. And if you were wondering why Erik came to Dortmund this way from the west, it's not because Gelsenkirchen has moved since the seventeenth century, but Erik wanted to avoid the main east/west road, which would have been the most dangerous at this time. 
> 
> On the 9th of July 1631, Dortmund paid 3,400 Taler to avoid having to house and supply Imperial troops under Count Farensbach.
> 
> Erik's military career is reasonably plausible and explains what he is doing in 1631 and how he can find Mario. He is able to get replies to his letters quickly as none of the distances involved excede 100 km, e.g. the direct distance from Dortmund to Wesel is 60 km, although longer by road. You can still visit the remains of the citadel at Wesel today, which date from the late seventeenth century. The town was, however, fortified long before that and Erik's description is based on a plan dating from the Dutch attack in 1629.
> 
> And finally, Marco's stallion is, of course, inspired by the magnificent Thunder who is ridden by Blue_Night's splendid Marcus Retus, who is without doubt the best 'Roman Marco' and 'historical Marco' of all!


	6. Operation 'Rescue Mario'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The company ride to the fortress at Wesel, hoping to be able to bring Mario back to Dortmund but not knowing what they will find.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, it's finally time to meet seventeenth-century Mario. The title for this chapter is a bit out of tune with the others, but it was alway going to be called this. It's actually a Twitter hashtag from earlier this year, from when it began to look like Mario might leave Bayern and maybe even come back to Dortmund.
> 
> Important note. While the chronology/events of this story mirror Mario's history as closely as possible, what happens to him in prison is purely part of the story and is not intended as any criticism of Bayern or any individual there.

The sun was rising as their small company of eight rode out of the Burgtor in the northernmost part of the city wall, following the main trade road leading towards Münster. Their plan was to branch off and ride north to the river Lippe and then follow the line of the river straight to Wesel. This route gave them the biggest chance of remaining undetected until they got close to their destination, at which point they would need to rely on Erik’s knowledge and experience.

This was the first time that Erik would be away from Dortmund overnight since he had arrived here almost two months ago. He would miss the city and would be glad to return home to it, but he felt strangely cheerful and optimistic this morning. And his heart clenched a little with happiness as he thought about what Marco had given him last night.

Marco had been secretive all day, spending time with his father and at the City Hall. He had even been to visit Mario’s parents. Erik was waiting anxiously for Marco to come home so that they could go to bed, as they would need to be well rested for their early start. The candles had started to burn down by the time Marco came bouncing enthusiastically into their bedroom.

He sat down beside Erik, eyes shining with happiness in the candlelight. Without saying anything, he handed Erik two pieces of vellum.

Erik took them almost reverently, his eyes scanning the documents. This was expensive calfskin, only used for the most important records, those which needed to be durable, those which had symbolic value. They had been properly drawn up by the city clerk and signed by the six senior city councillors, including both of Marco’s and Matthias’s fathers. The wax great seal of the city – depicting a tower, one of the towers which guarded the walls of Dortmund – was even affixed to one of them. Erik took a deep breath. These were serious legal documents. Tears brimmed in his eyes at the thought of what Marco had done for him.

Finally Marco spoke. ‘You can go and see Mario’s father if you want. He has the training to confirm to you that these documents are real and explain exactly what they mean.’

Erik smiled. His Marco had thought of everything, had taken such care of him. Of course he didn’t know if Erik could read this type of complex document, written in a formal scribal hand. Marco had never seen the messages that Erik had sent when he was trying to locate Mario or read the replies. And he hadn’t wanted to draw attention to the educational gulf between them by being the one to explain them to him. Erik was the son of a farmer, brought up in a village. Marco was the son of one of the richest merchants in Dortmund, educated in the city’s prestigious school, which was almost a university for the region.

‘Thank you, Marco. But I trust you. And your father. And this seal which symbolises the strength and safety this city has given me. And I know what these are.’ Eric smoothed his thumb over surface of the wax seal, still stunned that not only Marco but so many other important people had done this for him.

They had given him security. And freedom. They had given him a choice. One document was a military attest, confirming that he had been in Dortmund at the request of the city council and had given the city valuable aid in preparing its defences. That would allow him to return to the army without any difficulties. But the other document was even more precious. It gave him the freedom of Dortmund in his own right, the freedom to live and work there, to carry out a trade, even to bring his family into the city and give them the same rights.

‘I want you to stay here with me, Erik,’ Marco clarified, ‘but I want it to be your choice. And I wanted you to be completely independent. I wanted us to have equal status as free citizens of Dortmund. I want it to be our love that keeps us together and nothing else.

And this wasn’t just my doing. Yes, this is my gift to you. But Mario’s parents are highly respected and are deeply grateful to you for giving them a chance to bring their son home. And the council appreciate all that you have done to protect the city. This is officially your home now. If you want it to be. With me. That is written in the council records for ever now. And you hold your own copy in your hand.’

Erik simply hugged Marco tight, almost tight enough to force the breath from his lungs. Then he handed the precious documents back to Marco. Marco looked at him quizzically.

‘Will you put these in your family’s strongbox for me, Marco? With your other important documents?’

And Marco knew that that was his answer.

***

As Erik thought about this again, a contented smile played across his lips. He glanced over at Marco, who turned his head to return his smile, one of those breath taking smiles Erik had come to cherish so much. They rode contentedly side by side, enjoying the morning air and the warm rays of the sun as they turned westwards along the Lippe. The countryside here was beautiful, ringed by patches of forest and Erik would almost have enjoyed the outing were it not for what lay at the end of their journey.

They stopped briefly for their midday meal before pressing on. The intention was to cover as much of the distance as possible in one day to ensure that they would arrive at Wesel the next morning. They hoped to be as close as possible to Dortmund – all going well with Mario – before the next sundown.

They skirted to the north of the small fortified town of Dorsten, the last populated area between them and their final destination. The company halted for the night near the river, on the edge of the forest, in what would have been an idyllic spot for a night under the stars in other circumstances. After a quick meal, they settled down to sleep as best they could; they would need to be fresh for tomorrow.

Erik set up his sleeping place next to Marco and he was relieved when it was Matthias and Sven who came and lay down next to them. Still too tense to sleep, they talked for a while. Marco was fascinated by the stars. A new star, one which shone more brightly than all the others, had appeared in the sky in the year of Marco’s birth and he had been told this story from boyhood. As a young man he had read the works of Johannes Kepler, who believed that all of the planets orbited round the sun. Erik could hear the excitement in Marco’s voice as he spoke about this, about how much he longed to one day be able to see the night sky through a telescope, to be able to see the surface of the moon while still standing here on the earth. Of course one day meant if peace ever came to their land, which seemed a far distant prospect.

At last their eyelids were drooping and they could no longer suppress their yawns. As they settled down to sleep, Matthias addressed them sleepily, ‘Erik. Marco. If my Christina was here right now, I have no doubt that she would be sleeping safely curled up in my arms.’

Marco chuckled softly, enveloping Erik in his arms and placing a gentle kiss on the back of his neck. ‘Sleep well, love,’ he whispered, ‘and thank you.’

Erik squirmed happily against Marco, leaving no gap between their bodies. He went to sleep held tight in Marco’s loving arms, lulled into slumber by the gentle caress of Marco’s breath on his neck and dreams of distant stars in his head. No prince on a feather bed could have slept better than Erik did that night on the cold, hard ground by the banks of the river Lippe.

***

Erik woke still held close in Marco’s embrace, taking strength from the comfort of being in the arms of the man he loved for one last moment before facing the challenges of the day ahead. Erik was cold and hungry, stiff and sore from the long day in the saddle, but worst of all was the painful, sick feeling in his stomach as he thought about what they had to do today.

The citadel loomed into view as they road along the river. It may have been the smaller of the two fortifications here where the Lippe met the Rhine, but the four pointed bastion was still a formidable sight. And they were just going to ride up to it and demand entry! Erik swallowed hard, sitting tall and upright on his horse, trying to look every bit the commander he now was. He was in charge, the only one of them who could communicate with the Dutch garrison, and the fate of their entire company, not to mention Mario, lay in his hands.

Erik had no idea why he was so nervous, he had been in far more dangerous situations too many times to count. But then that had never been with the man he loved riding behind him and he had never had so much to live for before.

Erik rode up to the gate, motioning Matthias to stay by his side and the others to hold back. He rapped on the wooden door with the pommel of his sword and a small window opened.

Erik spoke loudly and clearly, in a voice of authority which demanded respect and obedience, ‘I am here in the service of your ally, His Majesty Gustavus Adolphus King of Sweden. I am commanded to interrogate an Imperial spy by the name of Mario Götze and, should he prove to have valuable information, escort him to the Swedish camp as a prisoner. Here are my credentials.’

Erik pushed his military papers, those he had been provided with for his journey into the Netherlands, through the small window, desperately hoping that they would suffice. He held his breath until the gate swung open, allowing him and Matthias to ride into the courtyard. Marco had understood why Erik didn’t want him by his side. The risk that Mario would react to the sight of Marco and betray them was too great. Hopefully he would still recognise Matthias and that would be enough to reassure him. And, as they both well knew, it was far too much to expect Erik to cope with confronting the reality of Marco and Mario together in such a tense situation, one in which their very lives depending on Erik keeping a clear head and playing his role to perfection.

An unkempt, foul-smelling guard escorted them to the prisoner’s door and unlocked it, the keys on his large keychain jingling loudly. He pushed the door open and seemed to be going to enter until Erik commanded him to leave them alone.

Erik slowly entered the dark, fetid smelling room, lit only by a small rectangular slit in the wall. Despite the sun outside, it felt cold and damp in here. As Erik’s eyes adapted to the gloom, he gradually made out the form of a man slumped in the corner on a pile of straw, chained to the wall.

Erik knew that he still had to be quiet as it was more than likely that the guard was eavesdropping on their conversation. He went over to the young man and his heart broke a little as he saw him try to sit up proudly, saw him try not to flinch as Erik came close.

Erik whispered to him, ‘It’s alright. We’re from Dortmund. I am a friend of Marco’s. We’re here to bring you home. But I need to pretend to interrogate you and to take you as my prisoner. I promise you’ll be safe.’

He saw Mario’s eyes focus on Matthias, who had come into the dank cell behind Erik and shut the door. Mario’s eyes widened in recognition and Matthias nodded in greeting, smiling at Mario, but placing his finger over his lips to counsel silence.

Erik prepared to play a role that he never enjoyed, that of bully and interrogator. He bellowed harshly at Mario, ‘Stand up spy! You have questions to answer. Now! Or else you will suffer! And suffer terribly at my hands!’

Mario stood up, stiffly and with a clank of chains, suppressing a slight moan of discomfort as he rose to his feet. Erik could see him properly now. He was smaller than Erik, with what must be soft and lustrous chestnut brown hair when he was clean and bathed. He was pale from his four months of incarceration and thin too. Thankfully Erik couldn’t see any visible injuries save for the bruises which marked his skin. But what he noticed most were his eyes. Mario had the most beautiful dark eyes, framed by perfect eyebrows and luxuriant long eyelashes that any woman would envy. While pain and suspicion clouded his expression, Mario’s eyes still shone with a soft light and the fire of his spirit.

Erik sighed. No wonder Marco loved this young man. And now it was Erik’s responsibility to bring him safely back to his side.

He interrogated Mario for half an hour, yelling questions and threats at him, hoping to convince anyone who was listening of his sincerity. And Mario had played his part wonderfully.

Finally Erik snarled, ‘I will need to take you to the Swedish camp, you wretched Imperial spy. Then you’ll see how we handle traitors in this conflict.’

Trying to stay angry, Erik stormed out of the cell and, as he had suspected, almost fell over the guard lurking outside.

Erik now turned his fury on the guard, ‘You fools! Four months here and not one piece of useful information out of the prisoner. I am taking him with me. Unchain him. Now! Or else!’

To Erik’s utter amazement, the guard simply obeyed unquestioningly.

‘Pick him up and carry him, soldier,’ Erik ordered Matthias. ‘We have no time to waste trying to make a weakling like that walk.’

Erik was indeed keen to get out of there as quickly as possible, but he also suspected that Mario would have trouble walking on his own straight away and he didn’t want Marco and their other friends to see him like that for the first time.

And that was how they simply strolled out of the fortress at Lippe, Erik leading their horses by the reins and Matthias carrying Mario like a sack of flour over his shoulder.

Erik saw Marco’s eyes go straight to the burden Matthias was carrying, but he was well trained enough not react to the sight of Mario. Matthias walked up to him and slung their prisoner over Bolt’s neck, taking enough time to make sure that Marco had a secure grip on him, but not long enough to arouse suspicion from the citadel as they were almost certainly still being watched. Then Erik and Matthias mounted quickly and they set off on the road back to Dortmund.

It was only after an hour of riding without being followed that they finally felt secure enough to stop to look after Mario and to quickly eat. Mario was pale and silent, clinging onto Marco, but was able to drink some water and eat a little. And then they rode on, intending to get as close to Dortmund as they could before having to stop for the night. They would be back in Dortmund by the midday meal tomorrow.

That night was such a brutal contrast to the previous one for Erik. Marco gave him a pained, apologetic look as they settled down for the night, begging for Erik’s understanding. Erik did indeed understand. Mario needed Marco right now, he couldn’t take that away from him. Unlike Marco, he had seen the conditions Mario had been surviving in for the past four months. And this was not the time to start explaining Erik’s role in Marco’s life.

They had brought a change of clothing for Mario and burnt his old clothes to kill the vermin that were almost certainly lurking in their folds. Mario had been able to wash a little in the river, but Erik knew that he was far from clean and still smelled none too fragrant. It was a real act of compassion and love on Marco’s part to hold Mario so close through the night. That was exactly the Marco Erik loved so much, warm-hearted, kind and generous, loyal to his friends. But Erik couldn’t shake the feeling that there might be more to it now he saw them together, now Mario was real and not just someone they had spoken about.

He could hear them whispering as he settled down for the night, Matthias coming to join him. Erik tried not to care, tried not to be jealous, tried not to let it hurt. But it did hurt. It really hurt. Last night he had slept in Marco’s arms on the hard earth and been blissfully happy. Tonight he was sleeping alone and another man was curled up in Marco’s arms, the man Erik couldn’t help thinking of as his rival.

And he quite simply missed Marco. It was exactly two months to the day since he had arrived in Dortmund and the first night since then that he had slept without Marco. He longed for Marco. He needed him. Knowing that Marco was so close but being unable to be with him was torture for Erik. And then he felt guilty as Mario had suffered so much.

Erik tried not to sob out loud, but hot, angry painful tears pricked his eyelashes. He must have let out an audible sob as he felt Matthias pat his arm.

‘It’s alright, Erik. You’re allowed to feel bad tonight. You miss Marco’s touch and you feel a little jealous. That’s only to be expected. But Marco loves you. You know that.’

‘But that makes me an awful person. Mario has been through so much. You saw for yourself, Matthias. You saw how he was existing.’

‘Yes, and I saw how it upset you, Erik. And we wouldn’t have Mario at all without you and the risks you took. You are one of the most selfless men I know.’

And then Erik finally dared to say it out loud for the first time, to voice the dark suspicion that was poisoning him inside. ‘What if Marco doesn’t want me now he has Mario back?’ This time Erik was unable to suppress the pained sob that threatened to choke him otherwise.

Matthias sighed. ‘Marco and Mario loved each other. They probably still do. But Marco loves you and he will never stop loving you, of that I have no doubts. But I don’t know what will happen. None of you do. It’s complicated.’

Finally Erik drifted off to sleep, so exhausted that even the pain in his heart couldn’t keep him awake any more. That night, for the first time in weeks, Erik had a nightmare and what made it so much worse was that Marco wasn’t there to take him in his arms and comfort him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Great Seal, the Turmsiegel, dates back to the 12thC and the oldest surviving example comes from 1241. The city is also entitled to use the imperial eagle, which is what is on the coat of arms today. The 'private seal' of the city council depicted the Imperial eagle as well and that remains the seal of the city of Dortmund.
> 
> Johannes Kepler himself studied the 1604 supernova. He is one of the best known astronomists of the early 17thC and was the first person to accurately describe the laws of planetary motion. NASA named their Kepler mission after him. His modification of the telescope remains what most amateur hobby astronomists use to this day.


	7. The homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mario comes home to Dortmund and Erik has to face what this means for his relationship with Marco.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So now we are going to find out a bit more about what is going on - not that Erik, Marco or Mario really know themselves right now! Mario is still a shadowy figure in this story but we'll see and hear more from him as the weeks progress, as well as learn more about what has happened to him.

It was the 1st of August 1631 as the company of nine rode into the city through the Burgtor. Mario was finally back where he belonged, in Dortmund where he would be safe and loved and given time to recover and become the amazing young man he was always meant to be.

They went straight to the house of Mario’s parents, who shed tears of happiness at their son’s return, embracing him and not wanting to let him go for a long time. Mario’s father thanked Erik over and over again, hugging him in gratitude like the overjoyed father that he was, not the city’s stern schoolmaster. His mother held Erik close, tears in her eyes, thanking him for bringing her son home and assuring him that he would always be welcome in their home as part of the family.

Erik was invited to stay and take part in the family meal to welcome Mario home. Sitting at the long wooden table and sharing in the food, laughter and conversation brought a warm comforting glow to Erik’s heart. He knew beyond all doubt that he had done the right thing in bringing Mario back to his family, back to Marco. But all the love and warmth round that table couldn’t melt the dark icicle of pain and fear that stabbed him deep inside when he thought about Marco and Mario together.

As evening drew in, it was clear that Mario had to rest and that, as much as he loved being back in the centre of family life, he needed some peace and quiet to recover. And now there was a problem in the midst of the rejoicing. Mario’s parents, missing their sons and needing love and laughter to fill the painfully empty rooms of their large house, had taken in two of the women and several of the children who had arrived with Erik. They had put the smile back on the face of Mario’s mother and gradually the children had lost the empty and scared expressions in their eyes and frolicked and played like the children they were.

She looked at her son with a pained and worried expression on her face. ‘Mario, the children are in your room. The house is noisy. I want you home, son. So very much. But how can I ask the little ones to leave now that they finally feel safe?’

It was Marco who rescued the situation. ‘Mario can come and live with us at first. We have so much to catch up on anyway. And we only live a few houses away, so he can come home anytime.’

Everyone felt relieved, except for Erik, who felt sick to his stomach. He was glad that they had brought Mario home and Marco’s generous offer was so like him. But in that one sentence Marco’s words had taken away the sanctuary of their bedroom, that intimate private world that had become a refuge for Erik, the place where he had been so happy. He had been clinging onto the hope that he and Marco could spend tonight alone together. And now he had a deep foreboding that he could lose Marco himself as well.

Once home, Erik and Marco had brought up hot water for Mario to wash in the seclusion of Marco’s bedroom. They went downstairs to give Mario some privacy, sitting side by side in the large hall which was the main living area of Marco’s family home. This was a spacious, comfortable room. The long wooden oak table shone in the candlelight, its rich brown patina the product of decades of use and careful polishing. Large, comfortable carved wooden chairs were scattered round the room. An imposing cupboard displayed the family’s most precious glassware and other ornaments.

In the corner stood the strong box where the family kept their most important documents, where Erik’s freedom of the city was currently stored. There was a lump in Erik’s throat as he thought back to just how proud and happy he had been when Marco had presented it to him. Was that really only five days ago? It felt more like a lifetime ago.

Erik had spent comparatively little time here, as he and Marco were almost always outside or together in their bedroom. Sometimes they had eaten with the family though and he had always enjoyed the company of Marco’s parents and listening to his father’s insights into politics and the administration of the city.

But now he felt awkward, almost like an outsider, sitting here stiffly beside Marco, not speaking when there was so much that needed to be said. He suspected that Marco’s mother sensed his unease because she went over to the virginal in the corner and started to play, giving Erik something to focus on apart from the silence between him and Marco. Marco’s mother and both of his sisters played beautifully and Erik was finally able to relax slightly and let the music wash over him.

At last they were able to bid Marco’s parents goodnight and go upstairs. Mario was sitting on the bed already washed and dressed, looking pale and bloodless wearing the bleached white underclothes Marco had laid out for him. The bruises and the marks from the manacles where he had been chained were starkly visible against his colourless skin.

Erik and Marco carried the tin bath downstairs again, exchanging a silent grim glance as the filthy colour of the water could not disguise the flecks of dried blood floating in it. Erik said that he would go for a walk, to give Marco time to spend with Mario. What he didn’t say was that he needed time alone to clear his head in the cooler night air, to prepare himself for the night ahead.

Erik delayed returning to the house in the Westenhellweg as long as possible. When he finally entered what he had until now thought of as ‘their’ bedroom, Marco and Mario were already in bed, Mario’s head resting on Marco’s shoulder. Of course.

Erik cleared his throat. ‘I’ll sleep on the floor tonight. I’ll find somewhere else to live tomorrow. Matthias will take me in.’

Erik had to fight the urge to run out of the house now, to bang on Matthias’s door, to beg him to let him stay, anything to avoid having to spend the night in the same room as Marco and Mario. But it was far too late in the evening for that and he couldn’t risk making a scene in front of Matthias’s parents.

Marco sat up suddenly. ‘No Erik! You’ll stay here with us, where you belong. Now get into bed!’

Erik was too shocked to argue. He could see that Marco was naked from the waist up so, taking his cue from Marco, he undressed to his underdrawers and slipped into bed, leaving a large gap between himself and the two other men. The bed was big enough for that at least. Erik prepared himself for an uncomfortable and sleepless night.

He was shocked to hear Marco’s voice in the darkness. ‘Come over here, Erik. We’ve spent the last two nights sleeping on the hard ground. It’s time to enjoy being back in our own bed again.’

Erik was seriously confused. He had a feeling he now knew how Marco had felt during those long weeks when Erik had teased him. But of course Erik hadn’t just been teasing Marco, he had been trying to feel out what there was between them, if their feelings were real and if they wanted to act on them. For a brief moment he wondered if this was Marco’s revenge. Perhaps he and Mario had planned this? No, whatever was going on, Marco would never do something like that. Erik was at least sure of that.

So Erik settled down, Marco in his arms like so many nights they had spent together. It was just that this time Marco held another man in his arms.

***

Erik woke early, having slept badly. He sat up and looked at Marco, smiling at the sight of the familiar sharp features and Marco’s sleep tousled hair. He longed to stroke it, but somehow felt inhibited today. So he looked instead at Mario.

The boy was truly lovely. He was physically so different from Marco. Darker hair and with dark eyes. Smaller, stockier, but with beautiful curved lines to his body and clearly even more heavily muscled than Marco. Once he was fully recovered and back to full fitness he would be a breathtaking sight.

And the boy was tough. He had survived nearly three years in the army and a prison cell and had not once complained on the uncomfortable journey home. The boy, Erik snorted to himself. Mario and he were more or less identical in age. And Marco, his Marco loved this man.

Marco and Mario stirred awake. Mario greeted Erik shyly before slipping out of bed. He closed the bed curtain at the foot of the bed to give himself some privacy to quickly wash and dress before leaving the room, saying he was going to his parents’ house for breakfast.

Erik looked silently at Marco for a moment, for the first time speechless in front of the man he loved.

Sensing his discomfort, Marco finally spoke, ‘I’ll bring breakfast up. We can talk privately then’.

Marco came back a few minutes later with a pitcher and a large pewter plate laden with bread, cheese and honey. Erik was hungry, but he found it hard to swallow, the food sticking in his dry throat no matter how much he drank.

After a while Marco stopped eating. ‘I promise that I’ll always be honest with you, Erik. And I need you to be honest with me too. I hated being apart from you that night in the forest, having to sleep without you lying next to me. And a part of me misses our nights together, just you and me.

But Mario is back in my life thanks to you and I can’t just ignore that. Being apart finally made him realise that he loved me. And the hope that he would be able to tell me that one day was what kept him going in that horrible prison cell.’

Marco shrugged helplessly, ‘But of course he never imagined that I would meet and fall in love with someone else, above all another man. He knows about you and that we were only able to rescue him because of you. I told him everything that first night in the forest. I wanted to be true to both of you and I couldn’t - I wouldn't - pretend that I didn’t love you for one moment longer than I had to. He stayed here last night knowing that. I’m sorry that I couldn’t tell you all this before. I longed to be able to speak to you about it yesterday, but I needed to wait until we were alone, until we had time to talk properly, to be able to say what we truly feel.’

Erik swallowed. ‘Do you… Are there …’ He stopped as he was unable to put his question into words.

‘Do I love him? Yes, I’ve loved Mario almost all my life. And the feelings are still there, they don’t just go away. Mario was the only man - the only person - I had ever been in love with until two months ago. It’s different from my feelings for you, but it’s still love.

But there is one thing I need to say and I need you to believe me. I need you to trust me. I meant every word that I said the night we agreed to try and rescue Mario. I love you, Erik. You are the man I want to spend the rest of my life with. And if it comes to a decision, that will be my decision – a life with you.’

The only thing Erik could do was open and close his mouth like a fish stranded out of water.

Marco chuckled. ‘Now get over here and kiss me. It’s been far too long.’

‘But Mario …’

‘ … knows well enough to leave us alone for an hour or so.’ Marco finished.

Erik closed his mouth on Marco’s, relishing the taste of him, even more so since an hour ago he had thought that he might never get to kiss Marco again. He ran his hands over Marco’s naked torso, committing the feel of his skin to memory, feeling Marco’s muscles shift under the smooth skin. His tongue was deep inside Marco’s mouth, thrusting deep into the warm cavern, mimicking what he would like to do to another part of Marco’s body. Marco obviously had the same idea, pulling back from him with flushed cheeks and eyes dark with desire.

Erik tried to move Marco into position to prepare him. But Marco refused, pulling down Erik’s drawers and pushing him back onto the bed.

‘No, Erik. I’m going to indulge you. I’m going to prove to you that you mean everything to me. You just need to lie there.’

Erik lay on his back, confused but definitely interested. And his cock was also most definitely interested by now. Marco was naked himself now and had wandered off to get the salve they were using as lubricant. Erik went to reach for the container, but Marco shook his head. Instead Marco took a generous quantity of the salve and started to massage it around his entrance.

Erik began to suspect what Marco wanted to do. ‘Marco. No. It’s been too long. And you’re not … You haven’t …’

‘Be quiet, Erik. I want you. I need you. I need you to take me like this.’

As Marco began to smear the salve over his aching erect cock, Erik had clearly lost the battle and settled back to enjoy whatever Marco intended.

Marco straddled Erik and he hissed faintly as he felt Marco nudging his entrance against the tip of his cock. This felt blissful. He had missed this these last few days. But he knew that he would need to let Marco take it very slowly after so little preparation. And this was all still so new for Marco. Then he realised that that was part of what Marco was trying to tell him. He was trying to show how him much he trusted Erik, how much he needed Erik. Even though he was on top, Marco was still so very vulnerable like this. Marco was telling him again what he had told him during their first night together, that he trusted Erik with his heart and his body. And so he lay back and simply drank in the intoxicating sight of seeing Marco slowly lower himself down on him.

This was beyond heaven. Watching every expression flicker across Marco’s face as he felt himself being filled by Erik. Watching the concentration on Marco’s face. Seeing his length slowly disappear into Marco’s tight velvet heat. And the feeling when he was fully inside Marco and could feel Marco’s weight on him was unbelievable. It felt like he was buried deeper inside Marco than he had ever been and Erik never wanted this to end.

This was the first time they had made love like this and Erik knew that Marco would feel a little uncertain, so he placed his hands on Marco’s hips in encouragement, holding him firmly as he started to move, a little unsteadily at first, but soon settling into a smooth rhythm. Marco was flushed and sweating. Erik could see how hard his muscles were working as he drove himself up and down on Erik, could see his mouth wide open in ecstasy and hear the little ‘oooh’ noises of pleasure and exertion that he made.

Erik knew that it would be too much to expect Marco to find his release like this, not today, not the first time. So he loosed one hand from Marco’s hip and tenderly stroked him to his climax. As Marco came, crying out Erik’s name in a soft voice, spilling his release over Erik’s hand, Erik finally let go, his world shattering into pieces with the strength of his orgasm and sheer relief. As he held an exhausted and satiated Marco in his arms, Erik began to think that everything might work out for the best for the first time since he had knocked at the gate of the citadel at Wesel. He hadn't the faintest idea how, and he suspected that Marco had no idea either, but together they would somehow find a way to make this work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The hall would still be the main living quarter of the townhouse of a wealth family at this time, although that would change as the century progressed. The description of the hall of Marco's family home is based on a reconstructed interior from the early 17th century. A virginal is a keyboard instrument which would often be found in wealthy homes, sort of a smaller harpsichord, the instrument that women were so often depicted playing in seventeenth-century Dutch paintings.


	8. A difficult conversation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a shorter update, but I wanted this conversation to stand on its own. It tells us a bit more about the complex and developing relationship between Marco, Mario and Erik. And it also addresses how the three of them could be together in this time and place, as I did think this through as carefully as I could.
> 
> The historical records tell of many of these 'affectionate friendships', and it is hard for historians to look beyond the surfce of the accounts and ascertain what were and weren't same-sex relationships and what were close friendships - which were societally typical of many eras - and we should perhaps give our predecessors their privacy. But love between people of the same gender has always existed; indeed exists today in places where it is still a death sentence. And I couldn't write a 17thC historical AU and not address this question; I have done so in 17thC language, as is consistent with this fic.

Erik sat in a dark corner of the tavern, staring morosely into his tankard of beer. They weren’t in their usual watering hole tonight - Erik wasn’t in the mood and they needed privacy - but in the tiny, dimly lit _Gänsemarkt_ hidden behind the Market Square.

Erik had sat there for about ten minutes without saying a word, before Matthias’s patience was finally stretched to breaking point.

‘You need to talk to someone, Erik. What’s wrong? Well, I can guess what the problem is. But how do you feel about it? You know that you can speak openly to me and I won’t judge you.’

Erik sighed. He did need to talk, to let out all the complicated thoughts and feelings that haunted his mind day and night.

‘I like Mario. That’s not the problem. He’s been through so much. And he and Marco have such a strong connection that I don’t want to get in the way of it. But he’s always there. I miss the closeness between Marco and me. If I’m completely honest with myself, I don’t know if I can share him like this. I don’t know if I want to share him.

I mean, Mario always gives us time to be … well to be intimate together. But it’s not the same. It’s been three weeks now. Mario is getting physically fit and healthy again and will soon join us in the city guard, so even that last little piece of private space Marco and I share will be taken away from me.’

‘I can understand how you feel. Christina and I have been formally bethrothed for nine months now, but we are waiting until our wedding to be together. We want children as soon as possible. I know that the world is uncertain right now, but that is our statement of hope for the future, for the next generation of our city. But a little part of me can’t help mourning the time we will never have together as a couple, just on our own. And it must be so much worse for you with Marco.’

‘The awful thing is that Marco would choose me if I asked him to. But I can’t ask him to make that decision. Nor would he be the man I love if he could send Mario away.

It’s terrible, Matthias,’ and the pain in Erik’s eyes was there for all to see. ‘Mario wakes up screaming, sweating and shivering every other night, fleeing from a terrible nightmare that pursues him. He needs us to calm him, to comfort him, before he can go back to sleep. And my touch seems to comfort him every bit as much as Marco’s.’

What Erik didn’t mention was the one night he had woken up from a nightmare of his own, to find himself held tightly in Marco’s arms and with Mario comfortingly stroking his back. And that it had felt somehow good, somehow right.

‘I am thinking of leaving, Matthias. Of going back to the army. Then Marco and Mario can be together the way they should have been all those years ago if Mario hadn’t left.’

Matthias thought for a minute. ‘May I speak freely?’ Erik nodded his agreement.

‘If you do that, if you try and escape from your problems here, I fear that you will never be whole, never be happy. There will always be a part of you missing. A deadness inside. And I don’t believe that Marco and Mario would be happy together either in that scenario. All that running away would achieve is leaving the three of you broken hearted and alone.’

Erik titled his head to one side, ‘Why do you think that?’

Matthias smiled. ‘The three of you are very different. If you allow me to pry a little. I think that you like both men and women, Erik. I think that you’ve been together with both but have never been in love before. And I suspect that deep down you really prefer being with a man.’

‘I can’t argue with that!’

‘Marco is otherwise. He never showed any interest in any of the girls as we were growing up, that was always obvious. And I know that he would never have been with a man before. This city, this world, is far too enclosed for him to have risked that even if he had known how. Mario supplied all his emotional needs, gave him the romantic love and affection he craved. And then you arrived. I would venture to guess that you were Marco’s first.’

Erik didn’t deny it, nor did Matze press him on the matter.

‘But Mario. Well I have the suspicion that if it weren’t for Marco, Mario would have married and settled down by now. That might even have happened if he had stayed in Dortmund. But there was always Marco. And the years he has been away and whatever has happened to him has changed things, have made that connection even more vital to Mario.

But the truth is that I fear that Marco and Mario would never be able build a life together if it were just the two of them. As absurd as it sounds, I think that it is your presence that is encouraging them to dream about finally being more to each other than just soulmates from childhood.’

‘What do I do then?’ whispered Erik, the pain and confusion audible in his voice.

‘That’s up to you. Being purely selfish, I don’t want you to leave. I want you to be there to celebrate my marriage alongside me.

But I have two thoughts. The first is that you have been passively letting whatever is going on between the three of you simply unfold and that is what might lead to disaster and heartbreak for you. Have you ever thought about what it would be like to actively try and make it work, to see how it could be between the three of you?

And secondly. I don’t know much, but there is one thing I passionately believe in and that is the importance of love. So many people have lost loved ones and the hope of love in this terrible war. You have a chance of love and happiness with two people and that is a gift that should not be taken lightly.’

Erik put his hand on his friend’s arm. ‘Thank you, Matthias. I appreciate that.’ Then he stopped, wanting to say something but clearly hesitant.

‘Go on, Erik,’ Matthias encouraged him.

‘How is it that you are alright with what Marco and I do, with us loving each other, loving each other physically I mean. Why don’t you think it is a sin in the eyes of God, the church and an abomination to mankind?’

Matthias’s face was serious. ‘There are those who think that, many of whom are doing terrible and cruel things in their own private lives, lying, cheating and stealing, beating their wives and servants. And there are many so-called upright citizens who are transgressing against the laws of the church without a second thought. The church wouldn't be condemning these things if there weren't people doing them.

You and Marco so clearly love each other and are meant to be together. That is what I respect. That is what I could never be such a hypocrite as to condemn. And you are my friends.

But you are right to keep your relationship private and not let too many people into your confidence. The discipline of the church courts is not as stifling in Dortmund as it is in other cities. In some ways it is easier for two men to be together outside the sacrament of marriage, as there is never going to be a pregnancy to give you away. That is what betrays so many poor servant girls, while their abusers walk away unscathed.

And your social positions protect you, never forget that. Marco is the son of one of the richest and most powerful men in this city. Mario comes from a respected family as well. And you outrank most of the inhabitants of this city too now, as a free burgess and joint second-in-command of the city guard alongside Sven. Marco knew what he was doing, Erik. He was born and reared in the politics of this city and the council. He has given you a position that protects you as well as him, as long as you are discrete and careful.

These are uncertain times. None of our lives are what we expected. If the war had not come, there would have been unavoidable pressure on Marco to marry and carry on the family line. But everything has changed, changed utterly.

Christina and I marrying and starting a family is more unusual these days than three brave young men, three stalwarts of the city guard, living in the same house in a crowded, packed and frightened city. You just need to be private about your exact living arrangements. Marco’s family treat their servants well and I can’t imagine any of them rushing to denounce you without hard evidence, even if they wanted to or thought they would be believed.’

Erik had a lump in his throat after Matthias had stopped speaking. ‘Thank you,’ he said simply. ‘You are a good man and I am proud to be able to call you my friend.’

When Erik went home that night, he stood for a moment in contemplation before getting into bed. Maybe Matthias was right. Maybe Erik should try and see if this could work out. He cleared his throat before asking ‘Do you think that I could sleep in the middle tonight?’

Marco and Mario smiled at him, shifting over to make room between them for Erik. He felt Marco’s arms round him, holding him close. How Erik had missed this, had missed being held in Marco’s loving embrace, had missed the feel of his soft, gentle kisses on the back of his neck. And he liked the feel of Mario curled up against his front, warm and comforting. Maybe, just maybe, Matthias was right? Maybe this could somehow work out after all?

And Matthias was definitely right about one thing. What Erik had right now was far, far better than lying cold, alone and unloved in a military camp somewhere. It might not have been what he had chosen. It might be still be painful and difficult. But the real sin lay not in loving Marco, but in risking losing this precious gift of possible love that the three of them had been given.

All three young men slept deep and sound that night, no nightmares daring to disturb their pleasant slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Gänsemarkt isn't a historic inn, but a very traditional drinking place in modern Dortmund and I like the idea that these places are eternal.
> 
> There are historic prosecutions for same-sex relationships, but actually not as many as you might think because of the burden of proof. Unlike witchcraft, this is one behaviour of the 'other' that doesn't result in a mass panic of persecution. There is an interesting example of a case of lesbianism in early-modern Scotland. But the key thing in that instance was that they had made a dildo and thus usurped the natural function of a man!


	9. An important decision

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is another 'filler' chapter, although we will also find out what fate is facing the city. And I suppose we have the 17thC version of coming out to your parents! Building a threesome between Marco, Erik and Mario is a delicate process. There is no way that Erik was just going to fall in love with Mario; nor is the fact that they both love Marco enough to sustain a stable relationship. And the relationship isn't being driven by sex either, which is the easiest way to create a threesome. So it has to be this very complex set of dynamics between them.

Marco kissed Bolt’s soft, velvety nose, wrapping his arms round his horse’s neck and winding his fingers into the long, glossy strands of his mane for comfort. He inhaled deeply, breathing in the warm, familiar smell of his mount, feeling his heartbeat finally slow down and become steady in the cosy surroundings of Bolt’s stable. It had been a difficult day already and Marco had to face the fact that he still needed to take hard decisions that would change his life for ever, even if that meant him ending up alone.

The events of the the past few weeks had made Marco happier than he could ever have imagined, but had also left him feeling constantly confused and guilty, as if everything was his fault and he was being unfair to both Erik and Mario. Mario leaving him had broken his heart. But then he had fallen in love with Erik, with this wonderful man who had shown him who he really was and what he wanted and needed.

They had had so little time to enjoy being together, to allow them to fully explore their relationship and get to know each other properly, before Erik had brought Mario back into his life. It would all have been so much easier if the feelings he and Mario had had for each other had simply died over the years they had been apart. But life was never that simple. In fact, the exact opposite had happened and their feelings seemed to have intensified. And Marco had the suspicion that this had something to do with Erik being part of their lives, that Erik’s presence allowed them to acknowledge that what they felt for each other went way beyond close friendship.

But this had left the three of them in a totally impossible situation. Marco had decided from the outset that he needed to be completely honest with both Mario and Erik. He had tried to pretend to himself that this was enough, that it was all that was required of him and somehow everything would work out. But of course it hadn’t been. Finally Marco had to admit to himself that he was in love with two men, albeit in very different ways. He didn’t want to hurt either of them. But he had had no idea what he should do. And so he had let matters simply drift along between them.

That was until a few days ago. Marco didn’t know what had happened, but Erik’s behaviour had changed. Until now it had been obvious that he liked Mario and felt sympathy for him, but that he was only accepting his presence as a necessary condition of being with Marco. And Marco knew that Erik would never ask him to send Mario away. Marco was profoundly glad that he had given Erik his freedom, that Erik had the means to make an independent life for himself, even here in Dortmund if he wished. Only that way could he be sure that Erik was staying with him because he wanted to, not because he had to. But now Erik seemed different. He seemed be actively willing to try and make things work out between the three of them.

And so Marco had to make his decision. But first he had to finally take the big step of speaking to his father. Marco had hated troubling his father with personal matters right now, not when he was so worn down with the stress of his responsibilities as a city councillor. But Marco owed his father this. He needed to tell him officially that he intended never to marry and that he would have formal legal documents drawn up naming his sister’s children as his heirs. And he had to find a way to delicately ask his father if he wanted him to move out of the family home, since his parents must have suspicions by now as to how their son was arranging his private life.

Marco’s father had looked at his only son with kindness and concern in his eyes, the exhaustion and constant worry clearly evident on his face, pinching the top of his nose to try and ease the headache that never seemed to leave him these days.

‘I’ll be honest son, this isn’t the path I would have chosen for you. But none of this is the life we would have wanted for you, the life that your mother and I hoped you would have when you were born.

But I am proud of you, of the man you have become: honest, decent and unswerving in your duty to this city. And they are good men as well. Mario. And Erik too. This city will need men like them before too long, I fear.’

He saw the question in Marco’s face, the question neither of them really wanted to ask or hear but couldn’t ignore.

‘I won’t even pretend to be able to understand, Marco. But your mother and I are happy to welcome Mario and Erik as your dear friends and comrades.

But …’ and here Marco’s father paused for a long time, clearly thinking hard about what to say next, ‘… there has been so much bloodshed and destruction over the past fourteen years and it shows no sign of ending any time soon. So many cities have been burned, so many people murdered or raped, so much property stolen, most of it under the pretext that this was the will of God or by people claiming that they knew the mind of God. And, as a consequence, I find it increasingly difficult to be dogmatic about what is right or wrong when good, decent people care about each other and aren’t hurting anyone else.’

Marco had a lump in his throat as he knew that this was the closest his father could come to giving him his blessing. But there was one question he had to ask, he owed it to his parents.

‘Do you want me to move out? This is your house and I am conscious of your position in the city.’

‘Not at all, Marco. Your mother and I enjoy having you all here. It makes the house feel alive and gives us some hope in these dark days. And … well … to be completely honest, you are safer here and our family name will protect you better under my roof. But, while I’m sure that that great bed of yours is more than big enough, perhaps it is getting a little crowded in there at night and you might want to think about having another bed moved into your room, just in case someone has the bright idea of interrogating one of the servants.’

Marco had to smile. His father was always the consummate politician and diplomat, even when it came to his son’s personal life.

They hugged, something they rarely did now that Marco was grown, but it seemed appropriate for today, now he was fully grown-up and able to face his father as the man he really was, for good or for ill.

Marco turned to leave, but his father’s voice called him back. He could hear the anguish and distress as his father spoke openly, finally feeling that he could fully share the burden of his knowledge with his son and tell him the whole, terrible truth.

‘I’m not sure if there will be anything left to inherit, Marco. Our family business is almost gone as the war has completely destroyed all of our trade. At first I thought it would be only temporary and we could rebuild, but my hope is diminishing.

And I am not sure if even this house will survive. The city is running out of money. It won’t be long before we are no longer to appease those who threaten us. We aren’t like Cologne, making money from selling weapons to both sides. This war is strangling us. We are living off the past. And when that runs out … ‘

He stopped for a moment, before continuing, ‘ … And Marco, there is a rumour that the army which set fire to Magdeburg and butchered its population isn’t going to winter in the East after all. And worse, the news is that General zu Pappenheim is going to march west instead. And we all know that the Westphalian Highway runs straight through our city. If that army arrives at our gates … ‘ He stopped speaking, unable to articulate the horror of what that would mean for Dortmund.

Marco straightened his shoulders. ‘That is my true inheritance from you, father. I will always do my duty to this city and its people and I will try to protect them, no matter what it costs me. That is the responsibility we both share, even if we carry it out in very different ways.’

***

That night it was Marco who had the nightmare. Everything was so lifelike and real: the colours, the smells, above all the feelings, the almost unbearable feelings of pain and loss. He had dreamt that they had been attacked by a group of soldiers. They were able to defeat them, but Marco saw the vivid panorama unfold before his eyes of how one of the wounded men had tried to attack Mario from behind. Erik had intervened, saving Mario, taking a vicious stab wound to the side in the process.

After that the nightmare scenario had played out in terrible slow motion. Marco could hear Matthias crying. He could hear Mario sobbing hysterically. But none of that had mattered to Marco. He held the dying body of the man he loved in his arms, the blood-flecked froth at his lips betraying the fact that there was no hope.

Marco didn’t waste time in crying; there would be time for that later. He didn’t want to waste these last few precious minutes he had with Erik in sadness and despair, but spend them as they had lived, in love, passion and tenderness. He had kissed Erik, ignoring the blood which now stained his own skin, and told him he loved him over and over again, stroking his soft brown hair for the last time. Erik had found the strength to tell him that he loved him, struggling to stay with Marco until finally the light went out of his beautiful hazel eyes. And his last words, almost nothing more than a whisper, had been ‘Look after Mario. Promise me.’

That was the point at which Marco woke up screaming, shaking and sweating, struggling for breath, poised for agonisingly long seconds on the boundary between the realm of dreams and reality, still unsure if what he had witnessed had happened or was just his deepest fears manifesting as a nightmare. But then he felt two pairs of warm, strong arms round him. He felt Erik’s warm lips on his skin. He heard Mario reassuring him, ‘It’s alright, Marco. It was only a dream. Only a horrible nightmare. We’re here. We’ve got you. Go back to sleep.’

As Marco drifted off to sleep, lulled back into blissful unconsciousness by the comforting presences of Erik and Mario, he realised that he had finally made his decision. Nobody knew what the future would bring. Nobody knew if any of them would even be alive this time next year. But he loved both of these two men and would do whatever it took for the three of them to be happy together for as long as they could. He was fortunate enough to be loved by two amazing men and he needed to embrace that and be thankful. That was his duty and his responsibility.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The scenario that Marco's father outlines is exactly the fate the city is facing.
> 
> Dortmund sits on the Westfälischer Hellweg, the Westphalian Highroad, which runs on a line from Duisburg, through Essen, Bochum, Paderborn and Soest to Corvey. This was an important trade and communication route in times of peace, but potentially catastrophic during the Thirty Years War as it was the route used by troops. You can spot the line of the old Hellweg in many towns along it, but it is most obvious in Dortmund itself. The Ostenhellweg and Westenhellweg are where the Westphalian Highroad runs through the city from the eastern gate to the western gate. This is also why Erik chose not to enter the city at the western gate way back in Chapter One.
> 
> I am once more grateful to Blue_Night for letting me borrow Marcus Retus's noble steed to comfort my Marco.


	10. Mario

Mario had been back in Dortmund for five weeks now and this was the first time he had left the city. He had felt a slight stab of fear as he rode out through the Wißstraßentor leaving the safety of the city walls behind him, but now he was enjoying the feel of the sun’s warmth on his skin and the freedom of being finally out in the fresh air again. He felt safe and secure with Marco and Erik riding either side of him and Sven and Matthias riding a couple of horse lengths behind them.

Physically he had recovered well. The colour had come back to his cheeks. He had regained the weight he had lost during the long, hard months in prison, rebuilt the strength and muscle mass he had lost and today was his first day officially back in the service of his city as a member of its civilian guard. Mario was trying hard to keep up a brave face and pretend that all was well in front of his friends and comrades, but he knew that the mental scars would take a lot longer to fade, if they ever did.

Sometimes he saw Erik looking at him with a sympathetic and thoughtful expression and Mario suspected that Erik knew the secret that Mario was not yet ready to speak about. But he didn’t want to think about that today. Not today. Today was a good day. A day to celebrate being alive and free and with his friends. And so he spurred his horse forward into a gallop, forcing Erik and Marco to follow him.

The five of them halted by the river, pausing to give the horses a break. It was early September and the air was still warm, even though autumn was lurking round the corner soon to be followed by the icy chill of winter. Summer had been short for so many years now and the winters long, hard and cold. Mario looked longingly at the river. It had been many months since he had swum and this might be his last chance for the year.

Marco saw the expression on his face and smiled encouragingly, ‘Go ahead the three of you. Enjoy yourselves. Sven and I will guard the horses and keep watch.’

Matthias stripped off and ran into the water without a second’s hesitation. Mario and Erik were more reticent, suddenly shy and hesitant. They had slept in the same bed for five weeks now, for the last week or so perhaps as something more than just friends and roommates, even if this remained unarticulated and undefined, but they had never seen each other naked before.

After a moment of looking at each other in indecision, Erik winked at Mario before pulling off his shirt. Mario copied him. Erik turned his back to Mario to finish undressing and Mario watched him stride confidently to the river’s edge, admiring the curve of his back and the enticing swell of his buttocks as he walked into the water. Mario shrugged. He couldn’t let his shyness ruin this day for him.

Once in the water, Mario’s inhibitions gradually evaporated. The three young men swam together, laughing and joking, fooling about in the water, splashing one another and play fighting. Marco sat on the riverbank and watched them closely, happy to see Mario and Erik being so carefree and simply enjoying themselves. Marco’s pleasantly contemplative mood was brought to an abrupt end as Mario and Erik came out of the water wet and dripping, exchanging a conspiratorial glance before running towards Marco and jumping on him. They wrestled him to the ground, rolling about like a pack of romping puppies until Marco was wet, breathless and laughing too. If any of them had been able to spare the energy to look over at Matthias and Sven, they would have seen the satisfied and pleased looks that came their way.

From that point on Mario seemed to fit right back into his old life. It was as if he had never been away, as if the last three years had never happened. But he had grown up and come to appreciate what he had in Dortmund. And there was something new in his life as well: Erik.

Now that Mario was fully fit again he spent not just every night but almost every day in Erik’s company, learning to value Erik as a fellow soldier in addition to the ‘something more than friendship’ that they were ever so slowly feeling their way towards. Erik was by far the best swordsman of them all. Marco could almost match him, but not quite, no matter how hard he tried. However Mario and Erik could really test each other and everyone stopped to watch them in weapons practice. Mario and Erik were compelling and exciting to watch: strong and graceful, elegant, aggressive and deadly. Marco in particular loved to watch them, especially when they fought shirtless. As they so often did.

Mario and Erik pushed each other to the limit every time they fought in practice, until the sweat was dripping from their bodies, glistening as it clung to the powerful muscles that shifted and undulated under their skin as they moved, highlighting the strong lines of their sculpted physiques. Fighting shirtless made this a keener test of their prowess, for the blades they used were so sharp that even the slightest contact with exposed skin could leave behind a visible mark. Today this was only a drill, only an exercise, but Mario and Erik knew only too well that tomorrow their lives, or worse the life of someone they loved, could depend on their skills.

‘You really enjoy this, don’t you?’ Sven whispered in Marco’s ear one afternoon as they stood entranced watching Mario and Erik in action.

‘It’s my duty. I have pay close attention,’ Marco replied without turning round, a slight smile on his lips, ‘but yes, they are beautiful to see.’ And somehow Marco’s eyes were even more drawn to the sight of Mario and Erik after their practice bout, greedily watching them as they laughed, joked and teased each other while they helped one another to towel down their sweaty bodies.

Although he tried hard to remain strictly professional and focused, to view the stunning display these two skilled fighters were putting on solely as their commander and not as the man who shared a bed with them every night, sometimes Marco just couldn’t help himself.

Marco found himself picturing Mario and Erik’s perfect bodies moving together with him as they made love, their limbs intermingled and sweat on their skin the product of passion rather than combat. He could so clearly see in his mind just how lovely they would be together. He imagined how delicious they would taste, sweet, salty and male against his mouth and tongue. He knew exactly how good it would feel as he ran his hands over their bodies, all smooth skin and hard, worked-out muscle. He could even see Mario and Erik kissing in his imagination and was surprised that he felt no jealousy, just arousal and awe at the beautiful sight of the two men he loved taking pleasure from one another.

Marco needed to be honest with himself. He had always framed this connection between the three of them together in terms of love. He had prided himself on being open about the fact that he loved Mario, just that it was different to the way he loved Erik. But now he wasn’t so sure. Things had shifted over the past few days, the dynamic between the three of them had altered and Marco had to accept the truth that he wanted both of these men in his bed and not just as sleeping companions. He smiled wryly to himself. Just four months ago he hadn’t been completely sure if being with another man was what he really wanted. Now he wanted two men. He never had done things by halves!

***

It was late September, the nights were dark and the air was chill. The thoughts of all were turning to the ingathering of the harvest, praying that there would be a good and abundant crop this year. A winter of starvation, the very real possibility that the city would be unable to keep its population fed and alive through the long dark months, was the most imminent danger facing the city, even more pressing than the prospect of an army at its gates. No army would come until at least the spring now. But the terrible threat of hunger and starvation could be just a few months away.

Mario walked through the darkened streets of his city, sunk deep in his thoughts. He had chosen to go home the long way, taking a detour round the city. He needed time to think, but he also wanted to give Erik and Marco as much time to themselves as possible. That was the one thing that he regretted, that Erik and Marco had so little personal time together now that Mario was part of their lives, that he had stolen so much of that precious intimacy from them. He knew exactly what they would be doing and strangely enough he wasn’t jealous, if anything he was relieved.

Mario felt that it should hurt more. After all these years he had finally faced up to his love for Marco, a love that had sustained him during those hopeless months of incarceration. Now he was free, reunited with Marco, only to find that Marco had fallen in love with someone else, with another man. But somehow that hadn’t mattered.

Mario knew that he owed his freedom to Erik. And Erik had welcomed him into his life with nothing but kindness and consideration, helping Mario through those difficult weeks as he tried to readjust to the safety and normality of life in the city. Now Mario was getting to know Erik for who he was, as a young man, as a soldier, not just as the man who loved Marco and had been kind to Mario. Mario couldn’t imagine his life without Erik now, every bit as much as he couldn’t imagine not being with Marco. But he knew that that would mean making a life-altering decision.

He thought back to the events of earlier this evening. He had been to visit Sven and his wife, to admire their new baby, a son they had named for an emperor no less. Mario remembered how comforting it had felt to hold the warm, solid body of Sven’s child in his arms, to watch him gurgling and chuckling happily. He smiled at the memory, but it was tinged with sadness. He knew that if he chose a life with Marco and Erik he would be giving up all hope of a family of his own, of having his own children. And, despite his love for Marco and Erik, a part of him longed for what he had seen tonight, for that cosy family life, for the openness of the love between Sven and his wife, for the joy of being a father.

He thought too about what Sven had said to him, obviously guessing at the turbulent thoughts running through Mario’s head. Sven had told him that love and family came in all shapes and sizes, that none of them could know what their futures held, that love was something precious to be seized when it presented itself, not cast away. That had helped Mario to come to a decision.

But the memory of something else Sven had said this evening sent a chill down his spine. As Mario had stood in the open doorway, casting one last envious look at the warmth of the family life he was leaving behind, Sven had finally said what had clearly been weighing on his mind for some time: ‘Mario, I don’t know what is wrong and I don’t expect you to tell me. But you should talk to Marco and Erik. They care about you. They will understand, whatever it is. Marco has known you almost your entire life. Nothing can change his feelings for you. And remember that Erik has led a very different life from us, one far outside the shelter and confines of the city walls, and there will be little that can shock him.’

Mario had simply nodded and said goodnight. But Sven was right and that brought Mario back to his immediate problem, to the dilemma that he had no idea how to address. He knew that the role Erik played in their lives was crucial. Mario had come to realise that without Erik, without Erik showing both Marco and Mario how loving another man could be, their love would have remained forever ephemeral, a beautiful daydream, a love that could not speak its name. Erik wasn’t preventing Marco and Mario from being together, but rather it was the presence of Erik in their lives that enabled them to be together, that at long last gave them a way to have a real future together.

And herein lay the problem. The connection between Marco and Mario had always been romantic and sentimental, a love felt in their hearts rather than in their flesh. That had begun to change in the last few months before Mario had left Dortmund, indeed it was in large part his sense that their relationship was shifting into something more threatening and complex that had prompted Mario to flee. By contrast, the love between Erik and Marco was deep and heartfelt, but also very physical. They needed each other, they needed to touch and to kiss and to make love. Mario knew that.

Erik and Marco had become more open in front of Mario these past weeks, unable to completely suppress the physicality of their relationship anymore and relaxed enough to let Mario see the extent of their need for one other. Mario had seen how they touched each other. He had seen them kiss, not as passionately as they would if they were alone, but enough that he could sense just how good it was, how close and intimate it felt.

Mario was excluded from this, kept outside, not by Erik and Marco, but by himself. He sensed that they would be willing to welcome him into this part of their relationship. He knew that he needed to overcome this hurdle for the three of them to be happy together. But he just couldn’t. It would have been hard enough before, when the thought of physically desiring Marco had terrified him. But it was impossible now, not when it would mean talking about something that he was not yet ready to confront.

It wasn’t that he didn’t feel desire for them. He loved sleeping curled up next to them, often in the arms of either Erik or Marco. His heart had sunk the day he came into their bedchamber to find a second bed in the room. He had feared that Erik and Marco wanted their bed to themselves once more, that there would be no more private, intimate nights spent close together, their limbs entangled under the covers and three heads, gold, brown and dark, lying next to one another on the pillows. He had been so relieved when Marco had told him that this was his father’s suggestion in case any of the servants would be questioned about their sleeping arrangements.

And Mario so longed to be kissed. Marco had kissed him only once, on that awful day when he had told him he was going to leave Dortmund. The kiss had been hard and rough and desperate, but the memory of how Marco’s lips had felt on his, of how his body had responded to Marco, was burnt into his soul. And Erik. Erik had a mouth that begged to be kissed, with the most beautiful, perfect kissable lips he had ever seen on a man. Mario knew that his head would spin and his innards would turn upside down if Erik ever kissed him. But kissing opened the door to other things. And Mario wasn’t prepared for that, not yet. He knew that Erik and Marco would understand, would never make him do anything he wasn’t ready for. But that would mean explaining why.

These thoughts occupied Mario’s mind as he walked in through the entrance of the townhouse in the Westenhellweg and climbed the stairs to Marco’s bedchamber, to their bedchamber as it now was. He must have come back quicker than expected for Erik and Marco were still relaxing in Marco’s great bed, warm and drowsy from their lovemaking. They smiled when they saw Mario, apologising for not being dressed. But Mario simply returned their smiles, casting off his outer garments and crawling into bed next to them. The three of them lay together comfortably for the next hour, talking about their day. Erik and Marco were keen to hear all about Mario’s visit to Sven and how the baby was doing.

As it was getting late, they finally started getting ready for bed. Mario saw Erik and Marco hesitate for a moment, which made him bite his lip thoughtfully. He was sure that they had slept naked together until Mario had come to join them. Soon the nights would be too bitterly cold for that, but just maybe this was a small step Mario could take? So he forestalled their attempts to get dressed for sleep by stripping naked himself and climbing into bed. Neither Erik nor Marco said anything, but simply followed his example.

Mario lay there shivering, wondering exactly what he had done. He felt the warmth of Erik’s body behind him, not touching him, just close enough for Mario to be acutely aware of his presence. He sensed that Erik was opening his arms to let him in and he inched back into Erik’s embrace, leaning his back against Erik’s broad chest, letting strong arms enfold him. His lower body remained tense, keeping its distance from Erik’s groin. But gradually he began to relax, soothed by Erik’s hand stroking over his chest, by the feel of incredibly soft kisses being fluttered against the nape of his neck. He felt safe and loved in Erik’s arms, no harm could ever come to him here. And he knew that Marco was lying there right next to Erik; he could hear the familiar sound of his breathing in the silence of their bedroom. So slowly, ever so slowly, he began to melt against Erik’s body until he was completely curled up inside the cocoon of Erik’s limbs. And it felt good. So good. It felt like being finally home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The swords the Swedish and Imperial armies used, that Erik and Mario would be familiar with, had fairly long, thin elegant blades and a filigree of metalwork as a hilt. They are actually rather beautiful pieces of metalwork.
> 
> The threat of food shortage is a very real threat for the city. The late medieval and early modern periods saw climate cooling in Europe, which was particularly serious in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Combined with the effects of political disruption and war, much of Europe experienced periodic food crises in the seventeenth century, which is one of the reasons why it was such a turbulent period.
> 
> The cooling of the climate meant that the altitude at which crops could be cultivated dropped, the growing season was wetter and shorter, winter longer and colder. This is why snow and winter scenes were such a common motif in e.g. Flemish and Dutch paintings of the period or English Victorian literature, which depicted winters of the kind that we haven't consistently seen in Western Europe for over a century, for example Frost Fairs on a frozen River Thames in London.
> 
> Unlike today when housing tends to be the biggest daily expense for most of us in the developed world, for our pre-modern forebears it was food. City councils carefully regulated the quality and production of foodstuffs sold within their boundaries, for example the weight of a standard loaf, the quality of grain or beer. They also regulated prices and increases in the prices of staple foodstuffs were strongly resisted. They also too measures to ensure that the supply of food would last, for example storing grain, as food shortage and food-related riots were one of the biggest threats to the stability of the early modern city.


	11. Of weddings and wedding nights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter, one in which quite a few things happen (in between the desciptions of what they are wearing and eating!) We will find out Mario's secret in the next chapter. And, assuming that I get enough time to write over the next few days, the chapter after that will be Christmas in seventeenth-century Dortmund.
> 
> One comment. While I try and match the characters to the lives of their real life counterparts as closely as possible, I have reservations about using friends/family/children who don't have a public profile and never in a negative way. That is why Sven's wife and baby were so shadowy, even though I chose him for that role partly because I wanted someone with a child. But I have no problems with using Matthias's real partner as they are a very public couple. even if I am speeding up the marriage and babies bit, I think she'd probably love a grand society wedding with a splendid gown anyway!

It was late October and the harvest had been gathered in. The harvest had been better than expected and they would make it through the winter this year. Thanks had been given and now it was time to celebrate love, life and hope for the future with a wedding.

Matthias and Christina had been fortunate in that theirs was both a love and a political match. They had grown up together - both came from wealthy merchant families who were prominent on the city council - and fallen in love. They had been formally betrothed for a year now and at last it was time to marry.

This wedding was important for the city, especially for the families who were responsible for its security and wellbeing, for whom it was a sign and symbol of their continuity and power. But the happy couple had chosen to delay their wedding until after the harvest. The great wedding feast that would follow the church blessing was just as important as the betrothal or the church ceremony in solemnising the marriage, but they had been unwilling to countenance feasting until it was known if the harvest would be a good one.

Now the grain stores were full, the barns full of crops and the animals that could not overwinter had been slaughtered and preserved. The festivities could begin!

The day of the wedding dawned cold, crisp but clear, a perfect day for a marriage. Marco, Mario and Erik awoke early, allowing them time to eat a leisurely breakfast together. The three of them had settled into a close and surprisingly domestic life together, working alongside one another all day, spending their evenings with their friends and their nights curled up together in bed together.

As the nights had drawn in and become colder, they had taken to nestling together as snuggly as possible, keeping each other warm with their shared body heat through the dark reaches of the night until dawn. The sleeping place in the middle was especially coveted as the bodies of two beloved sleeping companions were far more effective at heating cold bones and feet than any warming pan could ever be.

Their relationship was an intimate one, but there were things that remained unsaid and undone. Mario was comfortable with Marco and Erik’s much more physical connection to each other. He was completely relaxed in their presence and he craved their touch, the feel of being close to the man - or indeed the men - that he loved. He felt happy, safe and warm when Erik or Marco held him close. He loved to feel gentle kisses pressed against his hair, the back of his neck or his forehead. He loved to feel his arms, back or torso being stroked. But nothing more. Not yet. Marco and Erik silently understood this, they did not press him and waited for Mario to be ready. And until then they were happy as they were.

It was time for them to get ready for the wedding. Mario was to go to his parents’ house as his fine clothing was still stored there and he knew how just much it would mean to his mother to have her son accompany her to such an important civic occasion. Marco kissed him on the forehead as he departed, the three of them exchanging smiles of farewell. They would be together again tonight.

Marco and Erik helped each other to dress. Erik wore the beautiful lace-trimmed shirt and fine dark-red doublet slashed to reveal its black silk lining that Marco had given him all those months ago when he had gone to the City Hall to speak before the council. That seemed like another lifetime, he thought as he smoothed his hands over the costly fabric. They had not been a couple then, they had still been hesitatingly feeling their way through their developing relationship. He saw the expression on Marco’s face as he looked at Erik and knew that he was thinking exactly the same thing.

‘You look so handsome, Erik,’ Marco breathed with a sigh, taking Erik’s face in his hands and kissing him deeply and passionately. ‘I am so lucky that I found you. I can never thank you enough for all that you have done for me, for all that you have given me.’

Marco looked Erik deep in his eyes, stroking his fingers tenderly over Erik’s cheekbones. ‘You know that I think you are the most beautiful man I have ever seen. But it’s more than that. You are kind and brave and honourable, loving and generous, so very generous. What you have done for …’ Marco’s voice began to crack and he stopped to gather his composure.

‘It’s alright, Marco. You don’t need to say anything.’

‘But I do. You know that if it was anyone else but Mario, if we hadn’t already shared a past together, you - and you alone - would have been everything I ever wanted, everything I ever needed. But what you have done for us. Bringing back Mario to me. Accepting him in our lives. Making him a part of our relationship. That is more than I could ever have expected.’

Erik smiled at him. ‘How could I have done anything else? You and Mario loved each other long before you met me. You would not be the man you are, the man who was willing and able to love me, if there had never been a Mario in your life. I can’t imagine my life without you now. I can’t imagine any other life than the one I now have here in Dortmund. And if that means being with Mario, then so be it.

And anyway,’ Erik’s eyes began to dance with mischief here, ‘being with Mario isn’t really such a hardship. He’s brave, tough, loyal and fun to have around. And not exactly hard to look at!’

‘But …’ Marco’s voice trailed off again as he began to bite his lip. This was what they had never really spoken about. Mario’s lack of desire for anything more than almost platonic physical contact and his acceptance of Marco and Erik’s need for each other had enabled them to put this conversation off for so long, perhaps too long.

‘I know you want more, Marco. I’ve known that for weeks. But we need to give Mario time. We need to wait until he is ready.’

‘But what about you?’

Erik sighed. This was the question he had been hoping to avoid. The answer wasn’t simple for him at all. ‘I know that is what has to happen for the three of us to have a future together and I accept it.’

‘But do you want it?’

‘If I am honest, I have no problem imagining being with Mario. He is an attractive man and I am sure that we would enjoy being together. But … ’

Erik really didn’t want to go on. He didn’t want to voice the fear that had been eating away at him inside as bringing it out into the daylight would make it more real, would mean that he had to face it. And he hated the thought of Marco knowing that he was harbouring such childish feelings of jealousy. He should be able to be more open about this, he should be more understanding of Marco and Mario’s feelings for each other. But he couldn’t, he just couldn’t. He loved Marco enough to accept the three of them being together, but he loved him far too much for it not to hurt.

Marco led him over to the bed and they sat down together. He held Erik close, stroking and kissing his hair. ‘You need to be honest, Erik. This will never work if you try and suppress how you feel. It will just slowly poison you and our relationship.’

Erik felt ashamed, but he knew Marco was right. ‘I don’t know if I can share you with him. I have thought about it, over and over and over again, and the jealousy makes me feel sick inside.’

They sat for a moment in silence while Marco gently rocked Erik in his arms.

‘Do you hate me for this?’ Erik finally asked in a quiet voice.

‘Of course not. How could I? It makes sense. We were together. Everything was perfect between us. Until Mario came back into my life. And that was only because of you. I will always be grateful for that.

It’s me who should feel guilty – and I do – that I have done this to you, that I couldn’t give you the undivided love that you deserve. I don’t love you any less because of Mario, if anything I love you more, but it can never be that all-consuming and exclusive love that we shared for too brief a time, not unless … ’

‘No,’ Erik shook his head. ‘Mario is part of our life together now. It can’t be any other way. And I don’t really want it to be any other way. And, even if you did send Mario away now, he would always be between us. I need to be able to cope with this.

I think that the three of us together is something I can deal with, even welcome. But it is the thought of you and Mario alone together that would eat me up with jealousy and envy. And I need to have time alone with you like this, like we have had over the past months, at least at first. Maybe that will change over time. But right now that is how I feel.’

‘Then that is what will happen,’ was all that Marco said. ‘We’ll talk to Mario when the time is right.’

They held each other for a long while. Erik felt relieved and more hopeful now that he had finally told Marco how he felt.

‘I’m sorry, Marco. I think it’s the wedding that’s making me more emotional, thinking about Matthias finally getting to marry his Christina.’

Marco hugged Erik one last time. ‘Speaking of weddings, how about you helping me to finish getting ready?’

By the time Marco was dressed, Erik could only look at him with awe and wonder. Marco looked truly magnificent. Erik had only ever seen him in work clothes or in a plain black doublet on more formal occasions, but today he was resplendent in an outfit befitting the only son and heir of one of the richest and more powerful families in Dortmund.

His breeches were plain black and close-fitting, unfashionably so, clinging to his thigh muscles and outlining the ripe curves of his buttocks that Erik loved so much. His boots were of the softest, supplest black leather, with delicate silk stockings and elaborate garters. His shirt was of the finest linen, with a luxurious collar and cuffs of cambric trimmed with the most precious lace.

Marco’s doublet was a work of art, however, that set off his pale colouring to perfection and made his hair almost seem to gleam. It was short, with a high-standing collar and slashed sleeves, made out of a richly patterned silk shimmering in shades of cream, gold and brown, decorated with the costliest parchment lace.

Erik could only shake his head when he surveyed Marco in all his finery. He would be attending the wedding of Matthias and Christina with the handsomest man in Dortmund and he was proud to be by his side.

They walked the short distance to the church. The wedding was to take place in the Reinoldikirche, the city’s oldest church and its tallest building whose spire dominated the skyline. This was the church of the city council and the guilds, dedicated to Dortmund’s patron saint, and the architectural embodiment of the wealth, power and social structure of the city and its elite. Erik realised to his surprise that he was now part of this world, that this was now his social milieu, something he could never have guessed at when he arrived at the gates of the city just six months ago.

The darkened interior of the church glowed and glimmered, illuminated by huge banks of flickering candles. The three aisles were separated by two rows of three massive stone pillars that supported the roof. Statues of the great Emperor Charlemagne and St Reinold, reputed to be the Emperor’s descendent, guarded the entrance to the choir. The seats occupied by the city council lined the walls of the choir in front of the altar with its precious altar piece. The reliquary with the bones of St Reinold had stood here too until long after the Reformation, inextricably linking the secular and spiritual power of the Imperial city.

Marco and Erik settled themselves on one of the long benches. The actual marriage would take place at the door of the church. The formalities were short and simple. First the pastor announced that Matthias and Christina had declared their intent to marry and invited anyone to raise their objections or remain silent from then on. And then came the moment that almost brought a tear to Erik’s eyes, as he felt himself unconsciously shifting to lean slightly against Marco and look across the aisle to catch Mario’s gaze where he was sitting with his parents.

The bride and groom were each asked the same simple question, if they took the other to be their wedded husband or wife. And of course they both said yes! Then they exchanged rings and joined their right hands together as the pastor proclaimed those eternally solemn words: what god has joined together, let no one separate. And then, in front of the whole congregation, he proclaimed them to be married.

Matthias and Christina were radiant in their happiness. The bride wore her long dark hair loose. Her gown was elaborate and displayed her figure to perfection. The bodice was pink, high-necked, stiffened with whalebone, decorated with braid and slit to show the white fabric underneath. Over it she wore a black overdress made of silk damask with a pattern of flowers, open at the front to reveal a silk petticoat and held out from her body by padding over her hips. Her outfit was completed with a lace ruff and lace cuffs. Matthias towered over his tiny bride, standing strong and broad-shouldered by her side, and was simply dressed by contrast. But the double cuffs of his sober plain black doublet were decorated with loops of woven ribbon bands.

The remainder of the service took place before the altar, but it passed in an emotional blur for Erik, his head spinning thinking about Matthias and Christina, himself, Marco and Mario.

Because it was such a momentous occasion, the wedding feast took place in one of the large guild houses on the Market Square rather than in the house of the bridegroom’s parents. Long tables groaning with food were laid out in two of the large assembly rooms and gifts of food had also been set aside for the poor of the city.

They ate capons steamed with cloves, nutmeg, mace, cinnamon and ginger, wild game marinated in pepper sauce, venison in a sauce with cherries, apples and spices, veal pies, and tarts with chard, cheese and eggs. For dessert there were almond tarts, apple and pear tarts, cinnamon tarts, moulded marzipan, and baked blancmanges. The bride’s father had broached three casks of the finest French wine that he had been saving for this special day.

After a long evening of eating, drinking and celebrating, it was finally time for the bride and groom to leave for their new home and their new life together.

Erik felt warm, full and happy, slightly drunk on the amount of wine he had drunk. Erik leaned over to Marco and whispered in his ear, ‘Let’s go and find Mario. It’s time for us all to go home. Together.’

Marco smiled his agreement and the two of them set off to find the man who had become an integral part of their lives.

Two hours later, however, Erik was still lying awake, tossing and turning and restless. His head was still spinning from all the emotion of the day, from seeing his friends finally married, from how magnificent Marco had looked, how proud and happy he had been to be the man at Marco's side, not to mention from the wine. He was lying apart from Mario and Marco. He had to, for he was aroused, painfully so, and it showed no signs of abating, only becoming more and more uncomfortable as he lay there with his body tensed and his fists clenched.

Even if he had been able to find the privacy to see to himself, it wouldn’t really have helped. What he needed, what he so desperately needed and wanted, was Marco. But Mario was there, lying between them. So he just lay there, becoming more and more wound up as the minutes wore on agonisingly slowly.

His need and frustration must have been more obvious than he thought, for he heard Mario’s voice in the darkness. ‘Don’t just lie there and suffer, Erik. Let Marco take care of you. You’ll never be able to sleep otherwise. And neither will he.’

‘I can’t,’ Erik answered through gritted teeth. ‘You know why.’

‘Because of me? Please, Erik. I’m begging you.’

Finally it was all too much for Erik and he crawled over to where Marco was lying. At first Erik hadn’t been sure if he could relax enough to do this in front of Mario, but the minute he felt Marco’s arms round him, felt Marco’s body pressed against his, he lost all his inhibitions. Their kiss was hungry and needy, tongues buried so deep in each other’s mouths that it was almost painful, swallowing down their moans. Erik felt Marco hard against his stomach, every bit as hard as his own aching manhood that was rubbing up against Marco, so desperately seeking release.

The moment he felt Marco’s hand close round him, Erik’s moans became too loud to be completely contained by their kisses. He could hear that Mario was breathing hard behind him, but all he could think about was how good Marco’s hand felt and how desperately he needed to come. He pulled himself together enough to take hold of Marco. This wasn’t going to be slow or sensual, but hard, fast and oh so good, exactly what both of them needed right now. They were matching their rhythms by now, the noise of their hands on each other audible in the quiet of their bedroom, their kisses becoming wet, messy and sloppy as they panted and moaned towards their almost violent climaxes. They came more or less together and Erik relaxed for a moment with his arms still round Marco’s neck and his head on his chest.

Mario waited for a moment to speak. Erik turned round, suddenly feeling guilty about Mario, about letting him see them like that, hungry and aggressive in their need, not the sweet, tender lovemaking that he suspected Mario craved. He looked deep into Mario’s dark brown eyes. Yes, there was fear there, but also curiosity and desire.

‘Does it feel good? Someone else touching you like that I mean.’

Erik smiled as encouragingly as he could, reaching out a hand to stroke Mario’s cheek. ‘Yes, it feels wonderful. Especially with someone who loves you and cares about you and your pleasure.’

Erik paused. He could feel Marco behind him, his hand running over his side and hip, encouraging him to go on. ‘It isn’t always like that. Marco and I … well we just needed … It can be slow and tender and beautiful ... If you want ... You don’t need to … There is no pressure … But if you want … Marco and I … I promise that we’ll make it perfect for you.’

There was a moment of silence and Erik feared that he had gone too far, that this was too much for Mario.

But then Mario nodded. He didn’t speak, just moved to lie between them.

Marco and Erik moved close to Mario, surrounding his body with love and warmth on both sides. They could feel that he was tense and trembling slightly. They ran their hands gently over his belly and thighs, letting him get used to being touched, to the feel of their hands and fingers on his skin. They could feel Mario begin to relax; he was still trembling but beginning to breathe more heavily and to whimper quietly.

They both knew that Mario wasn’t ready to be teased and stimulated, for them to fully explore his body; he just needed to feel their touch and to find his release in their arms. They slowly and lightly trailed their fingers over the silken skin of his shaft, the touch of both of their hands giving Mario the sensation of being caressed everywhere at the same time.

Mario’s eyes were tightly shut by now, his head thrown back on the pillows and his back and hips were beginning to arch into their touch. As they started to stroke over the wet, sensitive head of his cock now and then, he began to moan, giving himself over to the pleasure and his overwhelming need to come.

Erik continued to lightly caress the tip of Mario’s cock, while Marco began to stroke his shaft with just enough regular pressure to bring him to a climax. They wanted to gently ease him towards his orgasm, to tease the waves of pleasure out of his body. And it seemed to be working. Mario was flushed and sweating, making incoherent moaning noises deep in his throat, struggling to keep his body still.

‘Let go for us, Mario,’ Marco whispered. ‘Just let go and come. We’ve got you.’

And Mario did, coming with a long, strangled moan while Marco and Erik continued to stroke and caress him until he was completely spent. He lay there, relaxed and satiated, with a blissed-out expression on his face.

Erik and Marco exchanged self-satisfied smiles. Cleaning up could wait until the morning, right now they all needed to sleep. So they snuggled up to Mario, their arms draped over his chest so that their fingers were touching, almost as if they were holding hands across his body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The description of the Reinoldikirche is based on medieval/early modern depictions and records. The church is still very visible in the inner city, but had a much taller tower than the present day church. The wedding is based on accounts of seventeenth-century wedding customs in the German-speaking lands with the tripartite betrothal/church service/wedding feast. The wedding service itself follows the order given in Martin Luther's 1529 'Marriage Booklet for Simple Pastors'. 
> 
> Marco and Matthias's wedding outfits are also based on surviving examples from seventeenth-century Cologne in the Hessiches Landesmuseum in Darmstadt, as is Christina's dress.
> 
> The food for the wedding feast is based on recipes from early-modern German cookbooks, especially the cookbook by Sabrina Welserin (I have a weakness for food history and cooking historic recipes and have made some of her dessert recipes).


	12. The morning after the night before

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well finally Mario is ready to talk to Marco and Erik about what happened in prison. If you want to know in advance, I have added a precise description to the tags. But Mario will tell us in his own words, because that is what he needs to do.
> 
> What happened to Mario is sadly very realistic, even - perhaps especially - in very homophobic contexts and societies and tragically is all too common in prison or combat situations - the latter is kept very much a closed secret. I didn't write him as being raped or similar for three reasons. Firstly, I couldn't do that to Mario. Secondly, the physical and psychological implications of that are something that I am not qualified to write and would be almost impossible to resolve within this relationship; it had to be realistically possible. Thirdly, he didn't have to be. The precise nature of the abuse is not necessarily the key factor; indeed the fact that Mario was made to actively participate in his abuse is potentially every bit as psychologically damaging.
> 
> The initial damage is done by the abuser(s), but that is so often compounded by what comes after; by the secrecy, the silence, the feelings of shame, by the feelings and emotions that can never be properly dealt with. That ruins lives every bit as much as the abuse itself.
> 
> And the sad truth is that this was written so as to be able to give Mario the most positive outcome possible, it could so easily have been otherwise. I am almost 100% sure that Marco would never have been able to deal with this without Erik, not in their context and situation. His love for Mario isn't enough in itself. There was a reason why, for example, only Erik and Matthias saw Mario in prison and neither of them have spoken about it to anyone else. If Marco was haunted and traumatised by that memory, it would be much harder for him. And Erik has always suspected - indeed may have feared much worse - which is why he has always been the one who protected Mario.
> 
> But the paradox is that to overprotect Mario is equally damaging, they can't go on treating him as fragile forever. So that is the place they find themselves in now after three months. I hope that it was convincing. There are no right answers or easy solutions, every individual and every relationship is different. But this is the solution I came up with for the three of them, even though I am painfully aware that for so many the journey is much harder and the outcome less positive. The hard thing for me wasn't writing Mario's abuse, but writing a happy ending that I know is denied to so many.

They woke late the next day, waking up with their bodies still snuggled close together. Erik lifted his head sleepily, blinking in the bright glimpses of daylight that flooded through the cracks in the shutters, his cheeks pink and his hair tousled from where he had been sleeping half lying on Mario. ‘Aren’t we late for duty?’ he asked, only partially awake.

‘No, we have the day off,’ Marco answered. ‘They’ll call us if there is anything urgent. Otherwise we have a whole day to ourselves. There are some compensations to sleeping with the commander, you know.’

‘I knew there was a reason I fell in love with you,’ laughed Erik.

Mario stretched drowsily, leaning back against Erik who instinctively enclosed him in his arms, nuzzling softly against his hair. Marco smiled at the sight, Mario looked happier and more relaxed than he had been for weeks. And Erik and Mario looked just so beautiful together like this. He could have stayed here all day just looking at them, but someone had to see to breakfast before Mario’s stomach started rumbling. That boy had been constantly hungry for all the years they had known each other.

He came back with a tray of food a few minutes later. ‘I told the servants that one of you was still suffering from the ill effects of last night. We’ll be left alone.’

Marco lit the fire in the huge stone fireplace in his bedroom. Normally he tried to be sparing of the kindling, winter could be long and so many suffered from the cold that they tried to save as much fuel as possible for the sick and needy, but today the three of them deserved to be warm and cosy, to have just one carefree day in a life of duty and sacrifice.

After breakfasting and seeing to their bodily needs, they returned to bed, drawing shut the heavy curtains round their great bed to enjoy the warm laziness of simply being together. They lay propped up on thick feather-stuffed pillows – the surplus geese had just been slaughtered and the pillows re-stuffed for winter – Mario resting against Erik’s torso while Marco lay in front of him, gently stroking his face and arm.

‘Last night? Was it alright for you?’ Marco asked at length.

Mario blushed red. ‘Yes. And … ’he paused for a moment to collect his thoughts, ‘It was my first time … being touched like that I mean … You know that in Dortmund I didn’t … There were women … camp followers in the army … but I never … ’

Erik squeezed him reassuringly as he stopped speaking, before Marco spoke. ‘I understand. Erik was my first too.’

‘How did you two …?’ Mario asked. He knew the story of how Erik had come to Dortmund and how they had met of course, but he had never asked how they became intimate.

Marco looked briefly at Erik, seeking his approval before sharing such private details.

‘Well we slept in the same bed for weeks, just like the three of us have. The difference was that Erik was much more evil to me, teasing me and torturing me with his gorgeous body until I was halfway out of my mind with lust and need.’ The affectionate glance he bestowed on Erik confirmed just how much he had enjoyed every second of it. ‘And then one day he asked me if I had lost someone I loved and I told him about you.’

‘About me? Before you were even together?’

‘Yes, Mario,’ Erik whispered softly in his ear. ‘You have always been with us. You have always been part of our relationship, right from the beginning. Without you, there could never have been an ‘us’ in the first place.’

‘And it was after that that Erik kissed me for the first time. And then he did other things to me. And then I pretty much begged him to make love to me. Which he did.’ Marco couldn’t help smiling at the memory.

‘Did he … with his hand … I mean … like last night?’

Both Erik and Marco could see how hard this was for Mario to put into words, but somehow he seemed to need, seemed to finally be ready to talk about the things that had remained too long unspoken. Erik began to slowly stroke Mario’s hair with the hand that wasn’t lying curled protectively over his chest.

‘No, with his mouth.’

‘Oh,’ responded Mario, and his voice sounded small and sad. ‘I don’t think that I can ever do that.’

‘You don’t need to ever do anything you don’t want to, Mario. You know that. And we could never take pleasure from something that you didn’t enjoy just as much as we did,’ Erik’s voice was gentle and reassuring.

‘It’s easier for me that the two of you have each other. That way I don’t feel any pressure to … well … to do things. To feel that I have to, I mean.’

They lay in silence for a moment until Mario spoke again. His voice sounded quiet and distant, almost as if he was recounting things that had happened to someone else. ‘That guard in the prison. He made me … he made me do things to him with my mouth. He used my mouth. He came in my mouth.

I said no at first, I tried to fight him, but he hit me and I was in chains. And then he threatened to starve me to death. He didn’t beat me too hard or too often as that would leave physical marks he would have had to explain, but he said that nobody would question a prisoner just wasting away as it happened all the time in there.

After three days with no food I gave in and did what he wanted. It was horrible, so horrible. I felt sick. I feel so dirty, so ashamed, even now. I should have tried harder. I should have fought more.’

Erik had kept stroking Mario’s hair while he was speaking, trying to show Mario that he was loved and cared for, that none of this changed how they felt about him. He could see that Marco was too shocked and angry to speak, his body tense and his fists balled in rage as he struggled to come to terms with his feelings, so he had to try and find the right words for both of them.

‘None of this is your fault, Mario. Never think that. That man abused his position and abused you. He is the only one who should feel any guilt here, the only one who should feel ashamed. You did what you needed to do to survive. And you did survive. And you are here with us right now, where nobody can ever hurt you like that again. And that is the only thing that matters.’

‘But how can you ever want me, want to be with me, now you know this? Now you know that I can’t … well … everything that a normal man could?’

Now Marco spoke, his voice low and dangerous with his rage at the prison warder, the ferocity of his love for Mario and his overwhelming desire to protect him. ‘Of course we want you. How could we not? We just want you to be safe, happy and secure. We never want you to feel you have to do anything that you aren’t comfortable with.’

And,’ Marco paused to try and control his emotions, suddenly aware that he needed to make it absolutely clear to Mario that he was angry at what had been done to Mario, not at Mario himself, ‘I feel so guilty myself, guilty that I let you go, guilty that I couldn’t protect you from this. I would give anything for this not to have happened to you.’

Mario looked at Marco with all the pain he was feeling so visible in his eyes. ‘When I … when he made me … I thought about you. That was the only way I could cope. I held on to the thought that I would see you again one day if I could only survive, if I could only make it out of there.’

‘Oh Mario,’ Marco sighed, taking Mario in his arms. They held each other in silence for a long moment, Mario secure in a tight embrace between Marco and Erik.

‘You knew, Erik, didn’t you?’ Mario asked finally.

‘Yes, at least I suspected. I didn’t know exactly what had happened, but I guessed that it was something like this. I had to fight my impulse to teach that man the lesson he so richly deserved. But it was far too big a risk. The only thing I could do was to get you out of there as quickly as possible.’

‘Thank you. I don’t know how I can ever thank you enough for what you did.’

‘There’s no need,’ Erik reassured him, ‘we’re here together now and that’s the only thing that matters.’

Mario leaned his head back against Erik, who kissed the side of his neck, his lips lingering for a moment on the soft, fragrant skin, eliciting an almost inaudible moan from Mario as he relaxed into Erik’s embrace.

‘What do you want, Mario? Tell us,’ asked Erik softly.

‘I want you to kiss me. I’ve wanted it for so long now. But I didn’t know how to ask you to kiss me without going further.’

Erik smiled tenderly at Mario, stroking over his hair one last time before gently lowering him down to nestle in the pile of pillows. And then he kissed him. Mario felt soft and warm and yielding beneath him, his lips sweet and tender, but his body was strong and hard with muscle and sharp bone beneath his smooth skin.

Mario moaned louder. He couldn’t help himself. Erik’s lips on his felt every bit as good as they had in his dreams, full and ripe, taking possession of him until he could think of nothing else but how just how good and how right kissing Erik felt. Erik sucked Mario’s bottom lip into his mouth, making Mario mewl out loud, using the opportunity to slip his tongue into the warm, wet cavern that lay behind. Erik took possession of Mario’s mouth, licking around inside until Mario’s head was spinning from the sensation of Erik’s agile tongue exploring every sensitive spot inside.

When their tongues touched, it felt like tendrils of lightning flashing over Mario’s skin. He made a moaning sound deep in the back of his throat that he could scarcely recognise as coming from him. He arched up from the pillows, pushing himself as hard as he could against Erik’s body until there was no gap left between them.

Mario felt hot jolts of desire start to boil deep inside him - in his stomach, at the base of his spine, in his groin - the same scary and exciting feelings of desire he had felt for Marco, the feelings that had frightened him so much that he had run away from Dortmund as far and as fast as he possibly could three and a half years ago.

And then Erik pulled away from him. Mario felt suddenly cold and alone, whimpering in need as he blindly sought Erik’s lips once more. But it was Marco’s mouth that pushed him back against the pillows and he whimpered again, this time with longing and lust, as he felt Marco’s lips on his for the first time since that terrible day they had said goodbye to one another. Marco kissed him hard and deep, with kisses that seemed to reach down into Mario’s very soul. There was passion, there was need. But at last they could kiss each other in the way they had always secretly longed to, even if they had never truly dared to admit it even to themselves, and show all the feelings that they had kept suppressed for years.

By the time Marco let go of Mario’s well-kissed mouth to give him a chance to breathe, his lips were red, swollen and wet. This time he didn’t feel cold and alone, however, for he could feel the comforting warmth of Marco and Erik leaning over him, he could hear the wet, passionate noises of them kissing. This went on for an age, the three of them exchanging kisses until Mario felt like he was floating, his mind emptying of everything as Marco and Erik quite literally kissed him senseless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't written from personal experience but, because of my job and volunteer work with children, I have been trained in how how to respond if you are the first person someone reports sexual abuse to. One of the things that is drilled into you is that your reactions and how the reporting of abuse is handled can have a huge impact on the victim's long-term mental health. Yes, there will be questions of evidence and proof, but those need to be separated from the victims's experience as much as possible.


	13. Christmas gifts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't the last thing I will post before Christmas, but I am putting the same message on all my pre-Christmas fics/chapters. For all those of my readers for whom this is a holiday season, I would like wish you all the best for a happy and peaceful holiday. 
> 
> And I would like to take the opportunity to thank all of you who have ever taken the time to leave comments or kudos. I know that we fic writers can seem like a needy bunch at times, but we really do appreciate knowing that people are reading and - hopefully! - enjoying our stories. That helps us to keep going even when it is difficult or the muse is hiding from us.

Marco loved riding in the snow. It felt like being transported to another world when the countryside was blanketed in smooth carpet of white, when all sounds were muffled except for the gentle thud of Bolt’s hooves sinking into the soft snow.

The whole land was held prisoner in winter’s harsh grip and there could be no threat from an army in the service of either the Emperor or the King of Sweden until the thaw came. But the unending succession of hard, cruel days meant that there was a greater likelihood of ambush by desperate men on the roads. That was why a company from the city guard had ridden out to protect the men felling the Christmas trees that would decorate the churches, guild houses and other public buildings. They were also charged with collecting branches, greenery and plants to decorate the prosperous homes of the city.

The Reformation had given a new meaning and significance to the Christmas tree and Marco liked this resurgence of the ancient custom of bringing in trees and greenery from the forest to brighten their homes in the short, dark days of midwinter. This year he, Erik and Mario were planning to find a small tree or a branch for their bedroom to decorate. That was perhaps a bit too sentimental for three soldiers facing an uncertain future, but this was their first Christmas together, all three of them, and they wanted to celebrate it to the full while they could.

Erik could carve intricate and lifelike figures out of wood; he had learned to carve to while away the boring, lonely hours in the army, especially the long months in winter camp. He had carved Christmas decorations for their tree as well as a whole menagerie of animals as Christmas presents for Marco’s nephew and niece.

That was something else that the Reformation had changed. Before St Nikolaus had brought his gifts on 6th December but, as there was now less focus on the adoration and mystical properties of the saints, presents were now brought by the Christkind on Heiligabend. The Christkind was a beautiful angel and Marco had to smile to himself. Their gift bringer this year was Erik and Marco could all too easily imagine his Erik as a Christmas angel, even if that was perhaps an unacceptably impious thought.

Marco’s musings were brought to an abrupt end when he heard shouts and cries that led him to urge Bolt to a halt and dismount, tying the reins securely to a sturdy tree. His Christmas angel and his Mario were engaged in a boisterous and competitive snowball fight against each other, but they were quick to join forces and adopt Marco as their new target, until the three of them were lying laughing and breathless on top of one another in a pile of soft snow.

They rode back into the city at the head of a line of sledges bearing trees and greenery. After the horses had been groomed and fed, the three young men made their way to visit Matthias, taking him and Christina a share of the day’s bounty to decorate their new home for their first Christmas as a married couple. Someone had had to stay in the city to take charge, so Matthias had given up his day in the snow to allow Marco, Erik and Marco the chance to ride out together today.

Their mood was ebullient and their cheeks still pink and glowing from the day’s excitement as they tumbled through Matthias’s front door. They settled themselves in the large carved wooden chairs in the hall, all sprawling long limbs and excited male chatter. They had so much to catch up on. Matthias still had wine left over from his wedding and he warmed it with some of the precious spices they had in store. The trade routes were long closed and it could be years before the trade in luxury goods would be reopened, but today was a day to celebrate. They sipped the hot, spiced wine gratefully, feeling its comforting warmth start to seep into their bones.

‘So Matthias,’ Mario asked, ‘how is married life? As good as you hoped it would be?’

Matthias smiled, a soft, gentle smile that slowly lit up his whole face, ‘Yes, it’s wonderful. More than I could have dreamed. And how is married life treating the three of you?’

They looked at each other, feeling a bit embarrassed, until Erik finally shrugged and said ‘I suppose we are married, as married as we ever can be. It’s good, but … ’

Erik stopped speaking, unable to continue, but Matthias knew what he wanted to say and finished his sentence for him, ‘Now we have everything we want, now we have a future to live for, it means that we have so much more to lose. But that just means that we have to work even harder to protect what we love and what is important to us.’

The three of them nodded – Matthias had put into words everything they all thought and felt. And then they all sat there and enjoyed the evening relaxing in one another’s company, free to be themselves as they drank spiced wine and chatted as the logs in the fire burnt and crackled.

***

Christmas Eve came and they had to say goodbye to one another for two nights. Mario’s family had so badly wanted him to come home for Christmas and he could not deny his parents this, not after so many years away. They would have their time together after Christmas, as the old year drew to a close. And, although nobody said it out loud, Mario was sensitive enough to know that Erik needed this time alone with Marco. This would be Erik’s first Christmas not in the army, but away from his family.

The evening of the 24th passed in a whirl of joy and happiness for Marco and Erik, an evening spent in the convivial company of Marco’s family, especially the over-excited children who loved their wooden animals and insisted that Uncle Erik played with them. Marco’s heart clenched at the sight of Erik on his hands and knees playing with his niece and nephew, making all the animal noises as they marched the collection of carved figures round the room.

But the wooden animal Marco loved most was the one Erik had carved just for him as his Christmas gift. Somehow Erik had even managed to capture the arrogant line of Bolt’s neck and the intelligent expression in his eyes in a wooden figurine.

They got up early on the 25th to attend the early morning service that marked the dawning of Christmas Day. They sat in their usual seats in the Petrikirche, marvelling at the candle light glinting against the splendid gold altarpiece as the elaborate choral settings of the magical Christmas story washed over them. The family festive feast was at lunchtime. A pig had been slaughtered and there was roast pork and baked apples.

Finally it was time for a happy, tired and well-fed Marco and Erik to go to bed. They undressed as quickly as possible, jumping into bed and snuggling up in each other’s arms to keep warm.

‘Happy?’ Marco asked Erik, with his lips pressed against Erik’s soft brown hair.

‘Yes. Very happy. But I miss Mario.’

‘I know, I miss him too. But he’ll be back with us tomorrow and we can celebrate with him then.’

Erik was silent for a moment until he realised that he could tell Marco how he felt, that Marco would always understand. ‘I am happy here with you. And with Mario. With your family and our friends. Here in Dortmund.

It’s just that I miss my family as well. It has been so long since I have seen them. It wasn’t as bad in winter camp as it never felt like it was properly Christmas there. But here, with your family, it makes me miss them so much. And I want you to meet them. I want them to know all about my life here.’

Marco stroked Erik’s hair as he answered. ‘They would be so proud of you, Erik. I am sure of that. And I want to be able to get to know your family as well. But the journey is so long and far too dangerous right now. Maybe one day we can bring them to Dortmund. But … ’ and here Marco stopped for a moment before he was able to go on, ‘I don’t know if the city will be any safer than their village for much longer.

I am afraid, Erik. Truly afraid. Afraid of what the new year is going to bring. Not for myself, but for my city, my family, the people I love. For you and Mario. For us. We have only just found each other …’

Erik answered in the only way he could, stopping Marco from saying another word. He kissed Marco hard and deep, trying to pour all of his love and longing for Marco into that one single fierce kiss. When he finally stopped to draw breath, his lungs almost starting to burn from the force of his kiss, he knew what he wanted, what he needed.

‘Marco, I want … I need to feel you.’

‘Of course, whatever you need, Erik.’

‘No. It’s not that. Well it is but ... I have never enjoyed giving myself to another man. I have never really wanted to do it. But I know with you it will be different. I love you and I need to let you take me wholly and completely.’

Marco leaned his forehead against Erik’s as he spoke, ‘It would be my pleasure and my privilege, Erik. And I promise that I will make it as perfect as possible for you. You just need to trust me and let me love you.’

Erik wanted this, he really did, but he still lay there trembling as Marco went to fetch the salve that they would need. But then he sensed the warmth of Marco’s body over him and he felt Marco’s lips on his, kissing, licking and sucking, capturing Erik’s mouth and making it his prisoner forever, not that Erik ever wanted to escape from Marco’s embrace.

Erik tensed as Marco’s fingers stroked over his sensitive entrance. It felt good, but Erik prepared himself for the shock of the intrusion, steeling himself to be able to bear it for Marco’s sake. He could, he would, do this for Marco. He would do anything for Marco. But it never came. Instead he felt Marco’s tongue deep inside his mouth, thrusting and licking everywhere inside, duelling with his own tongue until Erik began to moan gently. And then he felt Marco’s fingers simply stroking him, stroking him over and over again, gently circling the most intimate part of his body with just enough delicate pressure to make Erik shiver once more, this time with desire.

Erik felt like he was melting, melting into Marco’s kiss, melting against Marco’s body, melting into the incredible sensation of Marco’s touch. Erik heard himself doing something that he had never imagined doing in his wildest dreams, incoherently begging Marco for more, he needed to feel Marco inside him so badly. But Marco prepared him with the utmost tender care and patience, first with one careful finger, then with two. With two fingers Marco was able to begin to gently stretch him open and it felt so good, so right. And Erik saw stars when Marco reached deep inside him, curling his fingers round that spot where Erik was just so very responsive to Marco’s touch.

By the time Marco could easily penetrate him with three fingers, Erik was moaning and whining into Marco’s kisses, his hips thrusting upwards to meet Marco’s fingers and his legs spread wide, leaving him vulnerable and exposed. Erik had never felt like this before: wanton, totally out of his mind with lust, desperate to be taken, to be completely and utterly filled and possessed by Marco.

He felt no fear as Marco settled himself over him. The automatic instinct to resist, to fight being taken, that he had always felt at this point was gone. Marco was by far the strongest man that Erik had ever been with and, far from being threatened, he loved it. He could feel Marco nudging against him, wet, hard and needy against the quivering part of his body where Erik so badly needed to feel him. Erik blindly thrust against Marco, trying to force Marco inside him. But Marco simply smiled, trapping Erik’s hands over his head, holding them tightly against the pillows as he slowly and steadily sank inside him.

Nothing had ever felt like this before for Erik. He could feel Marco deep inside his body, filling his emptiness. The sensation of being filled, of being possessed, spread out from his core into every cell of his being. Marco thrust in and out of him gently, but with enough force to make it intensely pleasurable. Marco encouraged Erik to wrap his legs round his waist, Erik did as he wanted and now the pleasure was simply mind blowing. Marco was hitting that so sensitive spot inside him with each and every thrust, while Erik’s leaking, aching cock was trapped tight between their bodies, stimulated by rubbing against Marco’s hard, strongly-muscled abdomen.

Erik had never dreamed that he could come just from being taken, but he had no choice in the matter anymore as Marco was inexorably pushing him over the edge. Erik came saying Marco’s name over and over again, his back arching off the bed with the force of his release as he came hard all over Marco’s belly. Once he was spent, he felt a second wave of pleasure as Marco came deep inside him, pulsing and twitching against his over-sensitive walls as he filled him and claimed Erik as his forever.

As Erik sank exhausted and satiated into Marco’s waiting arms, nestling his head under Marco’s chin for comfort, he felt Marco’s lips against his hair and heard him ever so softly say,

‘Happy Christmas, Erik. I love you.’

As he drifted off to sleep, from somewhere Erik found the energy to murmur,

‘Happy Christmas, Marco. I love you. And Mario too.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is striking just how many of the hallmarks of our western Christmas have their origins in the traditions of the German speaking lands or German cultural region, usually transmitted and transformed through German-speaking emigrants taking their traditions with them. The two mentioned in this chapter specifically originate in the early modern period.
> 
> The origin of the Christmas tree cannot be accurately pinned down. The decorating of homes with greenery for the winter feast was an ancient tradition that never died out. The tree originally invoked the paradise tree of the bible. Christmas trees as we know them were found in guild houses and taverns from the beginning of the sixteenth century and gradually made their way into grand houses and from there into general use. A link has been made between the promotion of the Christmas tree and the Reformation, as there was debate among the Lutheran reformers over the appropriateness of nativity scenes and cribs. Legend credits Martin Luther with the 'invention' of the Christmas tree lit by candles.
> 
> The origin of the Christkind is more clearcut and is particularly interesting as the surviving Germanic strongholds of the Christkind lie overwhelmingly in the Catholic south, Switzerland and Austria. Most people I know identify the Christkind as Catholic. The Christkind is a childlike figure, Luther enviaged it as a representation of Christ incarnated as an infant, but is also widely believed to be an anger. Emigrants took the Christkind with them too and there is widespread belief that the Christkind is the etymological root of Kris Kringle. So Father Christmas, who has turned into the Christkind's rival, is essentially a composite of the Nikolaus and Christkind traditions.
> 
> The first explicit mention of Glühwein dates to the sixteenth century as Gewürzwein, although it would have only been for the wealthy due to the cost of the spices.
> 
> There is inaccuracy here. The altarpiece 'The Golden Wonder of Westphalia' is now in the Petrikirche. It was, however, in a monastery in Dortmund in the seventeenth century, but it is so beautiful that I had to let Marco and Erik have it.


	14. The last day of the old year

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am splitting this chapter into two: one for the last day of the old year 1631 and one for the first day of the new year 1632.
> 
> These are the chapters in which the three of them finally take significant steps to becoming closer, but not in the ways you might expect, or indeed in the way I originally planned all those months ago. But Erik, Marco, Mario, and indeed Matthias seem to have their own ideas when it comes to this story. I made the decision to write this chapter without a clear POV and to intermingle the POVs of the three characters, even to let them become confused and overlap, in the same way that the bodies of Erik, Marco and Mario were overlapping with each other and becoming one.
> 
> There will be a historical note about new year on the next chapter. But for now there is nothing left to do but either to - depending on what time zone you live in - wish you a happy new year or to wish you a happy new year when it comes.

It was the last day of the old year, 1631 was drawing to a close and an uncertain new year was dawning. Three soldiers stood side by side on the vast structure of the Ostentor, the longest of the city gates with a span of over fifty metres. They looked east, towards Soest and Paderborn, in the direction from which the threat would come that could mean the destruction of the city.

Mario and Erik had gone to find war, they had seen the devastation it had wreaked on innocent civilians and upon once prosperous cities, on cities just like Dortmund. Marco had waited for the war to find him and now it was coming, there was no longer any doubt about that. And he would face it at the gates and on the streets of his very own city, in his home, the city where everyone that he loved and cared about lived. Neither Mario nor Erik had been born here, but Dortmund had become home for both of them. They would give their lives to defend this city and its inhabitants.

And all three of them would give every last drop of their lifeblood to save the men standing beside them, the men they loved, even though they so desperately wanted to live, to live for each other and the life they were building together. They had talked about this over the past few days, they had shared their mutual concerns about their worst fears coming true, but then they had agreed to put these behind them, to enjoy each and every day they had with one another to the full. So they stood there watching the world sink into darkness for the last time this year, standing side by side, tall and proud on the walls of their city, only the slightest brush of their hands against each other betraying the fact that they were so much more than just comrades in arms.

As the sky finally went dark, Marco briefly squeezed the hand of the man standing to either side of him, asking a simple question to which he already knew the answer: ‘Home?’

***

Marco had carefully prepared their bedroom so that it would be as comfortable as possible – this would be a special night for the three of them. A blazing fire warmed the air, making welcoming crackling sounds. The soft glow of candlelight illuminated the chamber, casting dancing shadows on the walls, and the shutters were closed tightly, shutting out the world outside and the bitterly cold winter air. The bed was spread with freshly laundered lavender-scented linens and warm covers were at hand to keep them snug and warm later. The heavy bed curtains were pulled shut on two sides.

Erik and Marco were already naked. Together they undressed Mario, both of them pulling his shirt over his head and helping him out of his breeches. And then they paused for a moment. Mario had been naked before them many times before, but this was different, special, almost a ritual of cleansing and renewal as the old year faded away. Marco slowly undid the fastenings of Mario’s drawers, while Erik eased them down over his hips and thighs.

A large washtub of hot water had been filled and together they carefully washed Mario, running the washcloth over his torso and his legs, gently cleaning and relaxing him, making him feel cherished and cared for. And then they washed each other, wanting to be clean and fresh for their time together, before drying all three of them with warmed towels.

They curled up under the fresh scented sheets, leaving the heavy bed curtains open on one side; they wanted to see each other as well as feel each other tonight. Mario lay in the middle, gazing up at Erik and Marco with love and trust shining out of his huge, liquid brown eyes. Marco bent to kiss him, enjoying the sweetness of his lips, the soft caress of his tongue. Then it was Erik’s turn to explore Mario’s mouth, drawing sweet moans and groans from his lover as he licked and sucked at every tender, sensitive spot. The three of them kissed for ages, exchanging kisses that became ever more deep and passionate.

They had done this so many times before, kissing Mario until he was breathless, panting and aching with his arousal, before one of them gently stroked him until he found his release. But tonight they wanted to give him something more, to show him just how good it could feel when there was nothing but true love, trust and desire.

Erik propped himself up on a pile of thick pillows, pulling Mario’s unresisting body with him to rest comfortably against his chest, holding Mario close and safe. He kissed up and down Mario’s neck, before gently sucking his earlobe into his mouth. He nibbled at the delicate rim of Mario’s ear before slipping his tongue inside. Mario moaned loudly, becoming lost in Erik’s caresses, his hips beginning to instinctively cant upwards seeking friction.

Mario’s reactions didn’t falter for one moment as Marco pulled the sheets back to expose Mario’s naked body, his beautiful skin shimmering in the flickering candlelight, the dancing flames of the open fire highlighting the smooth, muscled planes of his body.

Erik felt Mario settling back against his chest, melting into his body and the feeling of Marco’s lips on him as they kissed their way down his body. Mario sighed contentedly as Marco began to make his way down his torso, mouthing at the heavily defined muscles of his arms and shoulders, painting the lines of his collarbone with his tongue, lingering in the warm, soft indentation at the base of Mario’s throat.

Erik heard Mario’s sharp intake of breath as Marco’s mouth reached his nipples, gently circling them with his tongue before licking over them, taking them in his mouth until Mario was gasping and moaning.

‘You like that, don’t you?’ whispered Erik. ‘So does Marco. He loves to have his nipples sucked, bitten and teased until they are swollen and sensitive.’

Erik sensed that Mario began to tense up as Marco kissed down his stomach, licking along the thick ridges and indentation of Mario’s abdomen, nipping and biting at the sharp curves of his hipbones.

‘Shut your eyes, Mario. Just relax and enjoy it,’ Erik soothed. ‘It’s Marco. It’s Marco who has loved you your entire life. Relax and let Marco take care of you. Nothing will happen if you don’t want to. Just tell us if you want us to stop. We have all the time in the world to be together.’

And Mario did relax, relaxing into the feel of Marco’s lips and tongue worshipping and exploring his body, instinctively relaxing his thighs and inviting Marco’s mouth to caress him where he most craved to feel his touch.

But Marco took his time, prolonging this exquisite sensory torture for as long as possible. They had always been careful with Mario, careful not to overload him with feelings and sensations that would demand too much of him before he was ready. But tonight was different. Tonight they wanted to drive him crazy with lust and desire, to show him just how much pleasure his body could give him in the right, loving hands.

So Marco gently lapped at Mario’s thighs, licking at the soft, pale skin that was so rarely exposed to daylight. He could smell Mario’s strong arousal now and Mario moaned louder, spreading his thighs wide, bracing his feet against the mattress at either side of Erik’s legs, becoming wanton and desperate in his need to feel more, in his aching need for release.

There was no mercy yet, as Marco sucked at the tender skin encasing Mario’s balls before taking each vulnerable orb in his mouth. Then Marco massaged the incredibly sensitive skin behind Mario’s balls with his tongue, smiling as he remembered just how unbelievably mind blowing it had felt the first time Erik had done this to him. It seemed to be no less good for Mario as his loud moans and sighs filled the room.

Marco looked up at Erik, wanting to make sure that Mario was alright and that he was ready for more. Marco and Erik smiled at each other over the body of the man they both loved, before Marco bent his head to begin to gently kiss over the soft, silken skin of Mario’s shaft.

Erik was surprised that he felt not even the slightest twinge of jealousy. The only thing he wanted was for this to be as good as possible for Mario. He could see how hard and aching Mario was, he could see the white pearls of fluid that his arousal had milked from him rolling down his shaft to be licked up by Marco’s greedy tongue.

Erik shut his own eyes as Mario began to writhe and moan on top of him, bucking his hips upwards as Marco finally took him deep in his mouth. He concentrated on kissing Mario’s neck and licking and nibbling his ear, while his hands moved over Mario’s chest, teasing and twisting his nipples, caressing his taut stomach with the fine line of dark hair leading down to where Marco was bringing Mario to his climax with his skilled mouth and tongue. Erik knew better than anyone just how good Marco was at this and just how out of his mind Mario would be from the intense stimulation.

Mario was indeed close to being out of his mind with lust and desire. He loved the feeling of Erik’s strong body pressed against his back. He loved the feeling of Erik’s arousal pressing hot, damp and hard against the base of his spine. He loved the feeling of Erik kissing the sensitive skin of his neck. He loved the feeling of Erik’s hand stroking and stimulating his torso.

But the feeling of Marco’s mouth on him went beyond any pleasure Mario could ever have imagined. Marco felt hot, wet and welcoming round him. Marco’s tongue was doing indescribable things to the sensitive, engorged head of his cock. And the unrelenting warm pressure of Marco sucking on him was driving him inexorably to his climax.

Mario felt like he was floating, burning, exploding in every cell of his body. He felt like he was being utterly and completely pleasured, drowning in a sea of bliss, surrounded in a cocoon of love and lust by the two men he loved more than life itself. And he really was going to explode, he knew that, explode deep in Marco’s mouth.

Mario’s vision whited out for a moment with the strength of his orgasm, Erik holding him safe and secure while he shuddered and shook through his release. Marco swallowed down everything he had to give before ever so tenderly licking him clean. The overwhelming force of his climax had been too strong, too intense for him speak, even for him to cry out, but Mario whispered the names of his two lovers loud enough for them to hear as he sank back exhausted and satiated into Erik’s waiting arms.

Marco joined them, kissing Erik first of all, kissing him long and deep. Mario felt a strange thrill of excitement at the thought of Erik being able to taste him on Marco’s lips and tongue. But then he stopped thinking altogether as he felt Marco’s lips on his in a tender and passionate kiss. 

Marco curled himself up against Mario’s chest, his head pillowed on Mario’s shoulder, his arms wrapped round both Mario and Erik. The three of them lay together like that, Mario nestled warm and cosy between the bodies of the two men he loved, as the final moments of the dying year ebbed away.


	15. The early hours of the new year

They lay there, with no barriers left between their naked bodies and their open hearts as they heard the bells of the Petrikirche chime midnight. The new year had dawned. Erik pressed a soft kiss against Mario’s hair as he murmured ‘Happy New Year.’ Marco kissed Mario’s neck where he was curled up on his shoulder, repeating the same greeting.

‘Happy New Year,’ replied Mario, before continuing, ‘but the two of you … you need to … I want you to … ’ He broke off not knowing how to go on.

Erik twisted round to look at him, stroking his hair as he spoke. ‘Mario, before I never enjoyed giving myself to another man. But I knew that it would be different with Marco. Different because I love him and he loves me. And it was. At Christmas. It was truly wonderful. I needed to be alone with Marco the first time. I know you will understand that.’

Mario smiled at Erik. Of course he understood. How could he not?

‘We’ve never made love in front of you. But tonight I want Marco to make love to me. With you beside us. But only if that’s alright with you.’

Mario didn’t speak, he simply pulled Erik down into a passionate kiss, his hands stroking up and down Erik’s spine as his tongue delved deep into Erik’s mouth.

***

Marco slipped away to get the salve they would need, briefly warming it in front of the fire. He paused as he walked back to the bed, watching Erik and Mario kiss, their bodies pressed up against each other, with limbs entwined and hands roaming over each other’s bodies. This was Marco’s dream, Marco’s fantasy, rendered into reality. But it was so much more beautiful than anything he had pictured in his head, the love and the passion between these two men who had come to mean so much to him clearly visible in the way that they caressed and kissed each other.

Marco stood still as Erik pulled back from Mario’s well-kissed, reddened lips, tenderly stroking over Mario’s cheek with his thumb. He heard Erik whisper those precious words for the very first time, ‘I love you, Mario.’ And Marco’s heart sang within him as he heard Mario’s answering confession of love, ‘I love you too, Erik.’

He wanted to give Erik and Mario this moment together, so he stood in reverent silence, watching the men he loved gazing into each other’s eyes as they finally admitted the depth of their feelings to each other.

Marco was beginning to fully understand the dynamics of the relationship between the three of them and how it functioned. The bond between him and Erik was as deep and profound as it had always been, it was just that now it was shared with Mario much of the time and somehow that made what they had even stronger.

And then there was Erik and Mario. There was a connection between them that was independent of him, a connection that enriched and underpinned the love between the three of them. Marco knew that they shared common experiences that he didn’t and somehow they seemed to intuitively understand one other. But Erik and Mario had also found a joy and a freedom in each other that they’d thought was lost forever, that had been taken from them by the cruelties of war. Marco loved to watch them together, watching them forget their responsibilities for a brief while and simply enjoy being the young men they really were.

And him and Mario. Their relationship was the longest standing of all, but both of them knew that it could never have matured into what they now had without Erik. Marco and Mario’s relationship existed in conjunction with Erik. And Marco knew that it had to be this way for them, that even if they were able to turn their tentative youthful romance into something more that was just for the two of them, they would risk damaging what the three of them had built together. None of them wanted to risk that.

What they had was perfect. More than that, it was what they needed to survive what lay ahead of them. Marco had never imagined wanting this until a few months ago, he had never thought that this would be his destiny. He had always thought that he wanted to find the one person in this world whom he could completely love with all his heart and soul. But now he needed both Erik and Mario, he needed the strength and the comfort that they could give one another. Marco couldn’t imagine it being any other way now.

After a moment or two of quiet contemplation, Marco climbed onto the bed, easing Erik onto his stomach and kneeling over him. Erik looked so enticing like this, his head comfortably pillowed on his arms, the reflection of the firelight flickering over his skin. Marco began to kiss him, starting at the base of his neck. Erik sighed softly, relaxing into the touch of Marco’s lips.

His sighs turned into moans as Marco ever so slowly kissed along the line of his spine, tracing intricate patterns with his tongue, caressing and massaging the skin. Marco’s tongue lingered in the hollow at the base of Erik’s spine, before moving downwards to kiss and lick over the soft skin of Erik’s buttocks, gently biting at the hard muscle lying below the surface, sculpted and shaped from hours in the saddle over the past weeks and months.

Marco spoke to Erik throughout, his breath ghosting across Erik’s skin. He told Erik how beautiful and how handsome he was. He told Erik how much he had longed to do this from that very first day when he had first seen the glorious sight of Erik bathing from behind, when he had first seen the curves and planes of this body he had since come to know so intimately.

Marco confessed that he had had only the faintest glimmerings of knowledge about the delights of another man’s body, but that he had known what he wanted from the very beginning. Marco had so badly wanted to learn more and Erik had shown him and guided him and taught him so perfectly. And in this very special night Marco would use all that he had learned to give pleasure to the two men that he loved.

***

Erik was blissfully happy. Mario’s response to his caresses and Marco’s mouth on him had been even better than they had hoped for. And then there had been that moment when Mario had looked at him, lips red and swollen, eyes unfocused and dazed with pleasure, desire and love. Yes, Erik had seen love there and had known that this was the moment for him to tell Mario that he loved him.

And now what Marco was doing to him felt just so good, all the more so as every kiss, every touch was filled with love, was filled with the deepest heartfelt longing to make Erik feel as amazing as possible. Erik was painfully aroused by now, but he wanted this moment to last for as long as possible so he relaxed into the sensation, letting the beauty of Marco’s words flow over him as he savoured the feeling of lips and breath warm against his skin.

Mario was lying alongside them and Erik could hear his breathing becoming heavier and heavier. This was arousing Mario too and no wonder. Erik knew that Mario hadn’t the faintest idea what Marco was going to do next – how could he? – and he wasn’t sure how Mario would react. So Erik unfolded one of his arms and stretched out a hand to Mario, who grasped it eagerly, holding Erik’s hand in a tight grasp.

Erik felt Mario’s grip on his hand tighten as Marco ever so gently used his hands to open Erik’s most intimate part to his loving gaze. Erik shuddered as Marco licked over his entrance for the first time. This felt just so intimate, so intense, so good. Erik lifted his head. He knew that his face would be contorted in ecstasy as he whined and mewled in response to the tender onslaught of Marco’s tongue.

The sheets felt smooth against his feverishly aroused body and Erik’s natural instinct was to rut against the mattress to find the friction he so desperately needed. But he didn’t want to come, not yet. So he thrust his hips back against Marco instead, holding onto Mario’s hand for dear life as Marco began to open him with gentle thrusts of his tongue, licking over the sensitive opening and as deep as possible into the passage beyond.

Finally Marco rolled Erik on his side, planting wet, passionate kisses all over his neck and shoulders. Erik leaned back gratefully against Marco’s strong body, trusting and needing Marco to take care of him. Erik could see Mario looking at them greedily, he could see the need and desire in his eyes, but also the uncertainty. He held out his arms, inviting Mario into his embrace. Mario didn’t hesitate, pressing himself against Erik’s chest, kissing Erik yet again. Erik had never particularly enjoyed kissing another man, but then he had realised that first Marco and then Mario loved to kiss and now Erik had become addicted to the feeling of their lips on his.

Erik felt Mario begin to melt against his body, losing himself in the feeling of kissing Erik, of their tongues buried deep in each other’s mouths. They had kissed and embraced naked in one another’s arms before, but this was different; they were both hard, aroused and needing release, both of them aching and sticky with the evidence of their arousal. And this was going to end with Erik coming, with Erik coming because of Marco buried deep inside him driving him to his orgasm, he had no doubt of that.

Erik wasn’t sure about this. Both he and Marco were so very close to the point where they just had to feel each other, had to let go and make love in the way they so desperately needed. And lovemaking between two men could be beautiful and tender, but it could also be hard, intense and aggressive. So Erik placed his hand in the hollow of Mario’s back, pressing their groins together, needing to see if this was too much for Mario. But Mario made no attempt to pull back, indeed quite the opposite, thrusting himself towards Erik, rubbing himself up against him.

The feeling as their bare cocks nestled together was beyond belief for Erik, the friction of his throbbing arousal against the silken steel of Mario’s shaft driving him even crazier with need and desire than he had been before. Erik gave up worrying and simply surrendered himself to the delicious feeling of his two lovers pressed hard against him, one to his front and one at his back, knowing that Marco would be able to give both him and Mario the release they so desperately needed.

***

Marco could barely believe what he was seeing, Mario held tight in Erik’s arms, their beautiful bodies writhing together in ecstasy. He knew that they would be able to feel each other hard against their stomachs, he knew that they were going to come from the friction of rubbing against each other as Marco made love to Erik. Marco had to swallow hard. This was somehow more than he had dared to dream about in even his most lurid fantasies and he suddenly felt a huge burden of responsibility.

He carefully lifted Erik’s leg, hooking it over Mario’s hipbone to leave Erik open and exposed. He began by caressing over Erik’s split slick entrance, before using first two fingers, then three to open and stretch him. This wasn’t about arousing Erik, Erik was already far too far gone in his lust to need further stimulation, but he needed to make this as comfortable as possible for him.

Marco smeared the salve generously over himself, taking a deep breath as he moved into position, the sensation of the head of his cock nudging against Erik’s entrance making him moan out loud.

But what Erik said next was almost enough to make Marco lose what little control he had left.

‘Please Marco. I need you so badly. Take me now. Please. As hard as you can. I need this.’

Marco summoned all of his available willpower to sink slowly into Erik, feeling himself being swallowed and sucked into the gorgeous, tight, velvet heat that felt ever so inviting. He reached over Erik and Mario’s bodies to where Erik’s hand was splayed out over Mario’s back, locking his fingers over Erik’s and using them as leverage to thrust into him.

And then Marco finally let go, thrusting into Erik as hard as he could, rocking Erik and Mario’s bodies together with every long, hard thrust deep into Erik. He could hear their mingled moans and whines, but all Marco could focus on now was keeping a steady rhythm as he pushed himself in and out of Erik. Somehow they all came more or less at the same time, crying out as they were melded together in a tangled mess of arms, legs and hot, sticky, sweaty bodies pressed up against each other.

Marco needed a long moment to recover, panting hard as he leaned his forehead against the back of Erik’s neck. He pressed a kiss against Erik’s flushed, salty skin before making to move away to get a damp cloth to clean them up.

But Erik stopped him, his voice quiet and tender, ‘It can wait until morning, Marco. We need you with us now.’

Marco saw that Mario was asleep already, cradled in Erik’s arms with his head tucked comfortably underneath Erik’s chin. He smiled, pulling up the sheets and the warm coverlet to keep the men he loved cosy during the long, cold night, before settling down behind Erik and taking him in his arms. He kissed Erik’s neck one last time, feeling Erik relax sleepily into his embrace.

When they awoke, it would be the first full day of the year 1632. And, whatever that year would bring, they would face it together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first of January as the beginning of a new year is also something we owe to the early modern period. It was adopted in parts of Europe gradually throughout the sixteenth century. It became standard with the adoption of what is now our modern calendar, the Gregorian calendar. The beginning of the adoption of the Gregorian calendar dates back to 1582, when it was adopted in, for example, France, Spain and the Holy Roman Empire (and thus in an Imperial city such as Dortmund).
> 
> The implementation of the Gregorian calendar took place slowly and piecemeal across Europe and then the world over successive centuries. It was particularly resisted by Protestant states and cities in the early modern period because of it links with Catholicism and the papacy. Famously the United Kingdom and its colonies did not adopt it or begin the year on 1 January until 1752 (although confusingly Scotland adopted the continental 1 January as new year in 1600).


End file.
